The World Grows Silent
by Khristian Rinku
Summary: For years, the town of Silent Hill has been shrouded in mystery and legend. It's hard to distinguish the fact from the fiction. What if the legend found a way to spread?
1. ONE

"Nothing ever becomes real 'til it is experienced."

-John Keats

One

You could almost hear it around the campus. It floated through the hallways, spilling outside and circling around the quad area that was becoming densely populated. It was the middle of October, which meant that there was a giant wave of relief sweeping through the student body.

It definitely wasn't the biggest or most prestigious university, but Clearview University had been around for just about two-hundred years. One-hundred and ninety-eight to be exact. One could make an educated guess about its age when looking at the buildings, especially the six that surrounded the quad. Red brick composition with a dash of weathering here and there. It seemed as if a scaffold was always attached to one of them replacing deteriorated bricks or replacing windows.

The school itself had a rich history, originating as a seminary school and remaining so for a little more than the first half of its existence. Back then it was known as St. Donan's College, founded by five priests of Irish ancestry. Rumors and legends speak about a series of tragic accidents or happenings that eventually caused the school to be shut down, with some speculations that there was a mass killing that was covered up by the local authorities. It stayed abandoned for about twenty-five years until it was re-opened as a progressive woman's only college known as Clearview University. Even though it became co-ed just a short time after, the name stuck and it seemed to effectively bury the school's dark secrets.

On this early Friday afternoon, none of that mattered or lingered on the minds of the student body. Fall break officially started today, and despite only being an extended weekend of essentially four days, it also marked the end of mid-terms, as well as the end of stress for at least a half of a week. Everyone was a little happier, livelier, amplified by the fact that it was a beautiful day and unusually warm for the season. There was a group of about eight to ten students tossing a Frisbee around on one of the grassy areas, which was devolving into a friendly game of monkey in the middle with two female students playing the aforementioned primate roles. Even the teachers seemed to walk with a little bit of pep in their steps. One of them, a paunchy middle-aged man with thinning dark brown hair and matching moustache, may have been walking a little too briskly when he accidentally brushed by a young brunette, knocking into a textbook she was carrying. She managed to keep a tight grip on the book, but the momentum of the collision spun her half-way around, causing her to drop her water bottle on the ground. Luckily, it was capped, thus preventing a complete calamity.

"Hey!" the startled girl exclaimed.

The male teacher didn't even look back as he disappeared into the ever growing crowd of people. The girl's friend, a taller and paler girl, with wavy auburn colored hair, bent down to pick the bottle up and hand it back to her now fuming friend.

"Jerkoff! Pederast!" the blonde yelled towards the now-vanished teacher as she snatched the water bottle from her friend. With a huff she started walking again, with her friend hot on her heels.

"Jesus Nicole, that's Mr. Miller!" The taller girl said incredulously. "He's still a department head!"

"Not of my department. And that doesn't give him the right to just bump into me without a second thought." Nicole took a long gulp from her water bottle. The two friends turned off the main path of the quad onto a shady path that led past the library, which was the second largest building in the school after the university center. The taller girl chuckles as she tucks some strands of hair behind her ear.

"What's a pederast anyway? One of your psych terms?" She inquires, playfully jabbing her finger into her friend's bicep.

Nicole smirked, giving a gentle shove back with her shoulder. "Someone who practices pederasty. A guy who likes young boys. With that creepy moustache of his, I'd say Mr. Miller looks like he may dabble. At least that means we're safe, Hannah."

Nicole and Hannah continued on the pathway that wrapped around the other side of the library, laughing at their private joke. Throughout Clearview University, a small stream cut through the campus running west to east, with small wooden bridges, no more than twenty feet in length, to connect the pathways. The bridge, however, was also no more than about four feet wide, which made it a tight squeeze when walking with someone side by side. Given the crowd of people coming from the other direction, Nicole and Hannah fell in step single file as a courtesy, while others across the way did the same.

The breeze started to pick up from the south, which caused Nicole's hair to whip in front of her face as they approached the bridge. Annoyed, she brushed it back away from her eyes with her left hand, as her right lingered on the wooden railing. From behind, she heard Hannah speaking but her focus was straight ahead, and it just became background noise. Coming towards her, in that group of non-descript students, all seemingly wearing the college uniform of blue jeans and school sweatshirt, one of the faces stuck out. She wasn't quite sure if it was his attire, with the black on black of t-shirt and jeans combination that loomed like a shadow amongst the blue and orange wave growing closer. It may have been that simple aesthetic that caused the young man to stand out. His eyes were cast down towards the ground, the only one in the group who wasn't talking to someone else, although visible white earbuds indicated that some sort of sound was accompanying him on his walk.

Perhaps he could feel her eyes on him, for right as they were about to pass, he raised his head and locked on to her. She could swear she saw a fire behind those bright green eyes, and though it may have only lasted a second, he seemed to go by in slow motion. Whatever trance Nicole had been in was broken by a sharp sensation in her right hand.

"Damnit!" Nicole exclaimed, holding her hand up. She spied a tiny, brown speck on her palm that would have been missed if the pain hadn't been there. Luckily, there was enough wood on the surface to successfully pluck it out.

"That's why you don't run your hand across wood." Hannah quipped as they exited the bridge and were able to walk side by side again. "Seriously though, wash your hand when we get back."

"Yes, mother." Nicole replied whilst rolling her eyes. She turned around to look at the man again, who was quickly fading into the distance. "Hey, you see that guy?" Nicole asked Hannah while pointing.

Hannah turned to look, but shrugged. "You need to be more specific."

"All black, kinda pale. Did he look familiar to you?" Nicole inquired.

"I don't know, didn't see his face." Hannah replied. "Was he hot?"

Nicole scrunched her face, waving her hand back and forth. "Wasn't bad, but I feel like I know him. I just can't place it."

"Nicki, it's Clearview, not Penn State. You've probably seen him walking around before." Hannah stated as they both turned to continue their walk. They were coming up on a set of four-story dormitories, with their destination specifically being the buildings on the right. The freshman dorms consisted of two buildings, one for female students and one for males, which were connected by a walkway on the second floor. It was an obvious afterthought in design, an addition that was perhaps the only modern bit of architecture other than the new medical center. Hannah and Nicole met as roommates in their first semester at Clearview and were fortunate enough to hit it off.

Just as they were within a few yards of the front door to Warren Hall, where they resided, Hannah's phone started buzzing loudly. Hannah whipped her purple backpack around, frantically digging through for a few seconds before retrieving the phone.

"Hello?" Hannah answered, stopping in her tracks and placing a hand on Nicole's shoulder to stop her as well. Nicole turned, watching Hannah's eyes light up. "Hey, what's up? Yeah…now? Uhh…" Hannah looked up at Nicole, "…sure! Yeah, absolutely. Okay. Okay, see you there." Hannah hung up and her lips curled into a smile.

"Okay, who was that?" Nicole inquired.

"Remember that guy in my I was telling you about from Algebra?" Hannah asked, drawing a shrug from Nicole. "You know, Jason?"

Nicole, still clearly not knowing who she was talking about, chose to play along, nodding a few times. "Jason, right. Yeah, that cute guy, right?"

Hannah laughs and nods in kind, clearly understanding that her friend is just playing along. "Right, as if I'd be that tongue-tied over a troll. Anyways," Hannah continues whilst pacing in small steps, "he wants to grab lunch with him like, right now. So I'm gonna meet him over by Winter and Hamilton."

Nicole sighed. "Well shit, there goes my idea of grabbing a bite at the Caf. Where are you two going anyway?"

"I don't know," Hannah started, absent-mindedly twirling her hair, "should I have asked first? How do I look? Should I change first?" Hannah asks with a frown while looking at her outfit.

"Jesus, who is this guy?" Nicole inquires, waving in a dismissive manner. "You look great, go on. Just remember to make him work for it."

Hannah lets out a high-pitched sound that can only be described as a squeak, obviously doing a horrible job of containing her excitement. She leans in to exchange a cheek kiss with Nicole that turns and walks away at a brisk pace. Nicole chuckles to herself, turning around and heading inside Warren Hall.

The inside of the dorm is relatively unremarkable. Taupe-colored walls with a pair of corkboards in the main lobby area, filled with dozens of flyers that encompass every inch. It's relatively quiet with the exception of the TV which is always on, even if nobody is around. A couple of girls that Nicole recognized pass her by and head out the way that she came in. There doesn't seem to be a RA or attendant around, which Nicole finds odd but dismisses the thought as quickly as it came. She headed past the front desk and towards the open door that led to the staircase.

As soon as she touched the first step, she felt an intense pain in her head, causing her eyes to narrow and taking a moment to stop. She had been getting migraines on and off for the last couple of years, so it was nothing new, but it didn't make them easier to deal with. Nicole silently cursed to herself and soldiered on up the two flights of stairs to her floor.

Every hallway in the dorm was brightly lit, which didn't do her any favors. She squinted and shielded her eyes, casting them down in the direction a rhythmic sound was approaching from. It grew louder and she took a few steps to meet it, until she spied the source of the noise; a pair of pink and black sneakers that stopped in front of her.

"Hey, Nic! What're you doing?" The owner of the sneakers asked. Nicole knew that it was Cara, a girl who stayed just two rooms down across the hall. She was always upbeat and just a little too tan for normal humans.

"Oh, hey Cara. Just heading to my room for a little darkness." Nicole responded while keeping her hand over one of the light's sources. Seeing the way Cara canted her head to the side, Nicole elaborated. "I have a vicious migraine."  
"Bummer!" Cara exclaimed. "Hey you know my mom always drank tomato juice when she had a headache, maybe that'll help. Do you have any tomato juice? I don't."

It made Nicole feel a little better as she thought about poor Cara, oblivious that mom probably had more hangovers than migraines. She did manage to shake her head though. "No. No tomato juice. Just aspirin and a dark window curtain."

"Well that's too bad," Cara frowned for a split second before going back to her usual perky self, "feel better though, okay?"

Before Nicole could respond, Cara walked past her and headed towards the staircase. She continued walking to her room, almost walking into the corner wall while trying to avoid the light. Both of the connected dorms were horseshoe patterned, with a garden area between them where kids congregated at all hours. Midday it was almost empty, but because of the natural privacy that it provided, it turned into a little drinking party most nights. Nicole hoped that this headache would pass so she could also enjoy herself later tonight.

Upon getting to room 314, Nicole dug around her purse to quickly find her keys. The plastic frog on her ring clanged against the door as she unlocked the door and gave it a light push open. She walked in and shut the door behind her with her heel while placing her purse around the right side of her desk chair. The room itself was just as ordinary as the building she resided in. Two twin beds, one of the left and one on the right side, with a mini-fridge in the middle. Each side of the room had a desk with an uncomfortable wooden chair, which Hannah already replaced with a rainbow-colored bean bag chair. Nicole opened her closet and took off the yellow hooded sweatshirt she'd been wearing, tossing it inside the hamper that sat in the middle.

She moved across the room to the window above the fridge and threw the single black curtain closed. Nicole always needed complete darkness when she slept, and thankfully Hannah was no different. The walls on each side of the room told the differences between the two. While Nicole had one poster above her bed of the band The Pretenders, Hannah's half of the room was filled with a combination of posters and pictures of family and friends that were crookedly thumbtacked. Nicole was also the neater of the two, as evidence of her foot getting caught in Hannah's purple tank top, which was haphazardly discarded on the floor in the middle of the room. She kicked it towards Hannah's bed and sat down on the edge of hers, closing her eyes for a few seconds due to the sharp pain that lingered.

Nicole always kept a bottle of aspirin at her small bedside desk, but there was also another small container there. It was black and cylindrical with a silver top, something that was often used to hold reels of film. Lying down, Nicole grabbed for this bottle rather than the aspirin. She uncapped it and took out two small, white pills that were generic with the exception of the letter 'P' that was engraved. Without the assistance of water, Nicole popped them in her mouth one after the other. A part of her wished that she grabbed her phone out of her purse so she could listen to some music while she relaxed, but decided that complete silence might serve her better.

Despite the headache, she let out a contented sigh at the thought of feeling back to normal later, and the trip that she would take to get there. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off.


	2. 2

"And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Two

Nicole awoke as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Her breathing was heavy and beads of sweat slowly ran down her forehead until she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She found herself sitting upright in bed, and it took some concentration in order to get her breathing back to normal.

She also noticed that it was pitch black in her room. Even with the curtain drawn during the day, slivers of light poked their way in to make it discernable to tell day from night.

"I slept all day?"

Nicole asked herself, shaking her head after realizing that there was no one to really answer. At least her headache was gone, she thought to herself. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and reached for the desk beside her. Normally she would be able to instinctively find the desk lamp, but felt nothing in its normal place. Then she reached for her phone until she realized that the end table itself was no longer there.

"What?" Nicole wondered aloud, slowly getting to her feet. "Where's my table? What's going on?"

By now her eyes would usually be able to adjust to the shadows of her room, but this was a different kind of darkness. It was as if she stood in a void, and no matter which direction she gazed, there was only the pitch black. If she didn't get up from her bed, she wouldn't have even known it was there.

She had been staying in her dorm room long enough to know the layout and knowing her roommate's housekeeping tendencies, she shuffled her feet a few steps forward so that she didn't trip over any discarded clothes. Turning to the left, Nicole reached her hand out to the curtain. The light posts outside always came on a half hour before sunset; they would definitely be able to illuminate the room. But she felt no curtain, or anything for that matter. She was starting to get agitated, and accidentally stumbled towards the wall, letting out a surprised grunt. Finally, her hand touched something solid, but it didn't make sense to her.

"How…?" Nicole started. She formed a fist against the surface and knocked against what felt like concrete. A solid wall stood where she knew her window to be. Her heart began to race as she frantically felt around on the wall, her breathing getting heavy again.

She had suffered through a panic attack a few years before and was beginning to relive that awful experience. Trying to calm herself down, she moved towards her bed and sat down again. She was positive that it was her bed. The fabric of the quilt that her grandmother made for her last birthday was familiar, so there had to be some other explanation. Thinking about this helped her calm down and take a few deep breaths.

"I'm dreaming," Nicole stated, "that's the only way to make sense of this."

Even if it was just a dream, it wasn't one that Nicole wanted to stay within. She laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, hoping that she possessed the ability to wake herself up. She tried to think of her room the way that she remembered it, the way that it really was. Maybe that would wake her up and everything would go back to normal. After about a minute, she opened her eyes. But there was still darkness; still nothingness surrounding her.

Nicole let out a deep breath and closed her eyes again. She began to think about being back home, in the bedroom where she grew up. She thought about the ceiling that had been littered with glow in the dark stars that she asked for when she eight, and never completely took down even as she became a teenager. She thought about Floppy, her stuffed rabbit that wore green overalls that she had since she an infant, which sat on her dresser after it was deemed too 'kiddy' to sleep with anymore. She thought about the smell of her mom making dinner, which despite working a full-time schedule, she still took the time to do every night. It seemed to be working, as Nicole swore she caught the scent of meat loaf emanating from…

 _THUMP! THUMP THUMP!_

The noise sent a jolt through Nicole's body as she sat up on her bed, staring straight ahead, wide-eyed and almost too terrified to move. Her mind was racing with a few thoughts, the first of which being what that noise was on the other side of the wall. The second thought, which immediately followed, was that she could see an outline of her door, which was the first thing she could actually see in her room since this nightmare started. Last, she wondered what the source of the light was that spilled from underneath the door. It was bright, but with a pinkish hue. The hall lights on her floor contained no color, but that was the last thing she was concerned with.

Nicole sat there, staring straight for what felt like an eternity, but in all likelihood was probably a couple of minutes. No other noise followed after the loud banging which stirred her, despite her waiting to see what would happen. She took another deep breath, slowly but surely psyching herself up to her feet. There was no reason to be so afraid, she said to herself, it's not like this was reality. The room she woke up in was the same layout of her dorm room, so she rationalized that it had to be a dream. If the worst had happened, if she had been taken, it wouldn't have been to an identical room. It helped the courage build-up in her body so that she was able to stand, slowly making his way over to the door.

Before she knew it, her hand was on the doorknob and slowly turning it. Be brave, she challenged herself. Despite how cold the bronze felt against her hand, it was still not real. Whatever was on the other side of that door couldn't harm her. With that thought, she turned it as far as it could go, and pulled.

In contrast from the room she was in, the light's intensity blinded her temporarily. She shielded her eyes with her left hand, then averted them towards the ground as she took a step forward. An unexpected cold sensation shocked her bare foot back into the room from where she came. It took her brain a few seconds to register what her eyes were seeing on the ground.

"Oh my God!" Nicole exclaimed.

Where a navy blue rug should have been in the dorm hallway, it was replaced by steel, or definitely some kind of metal. It appeared to be a grating, with small squares that couldn't have been more than a centimeter in area. Much like the room which she was emerging from, only darkness could be seen through its slots.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Nicole slowly raised her head. The walls were dotted with small, white tiles, and about a quarter of them were stained by some kind of dark red substance. A long smear of red ran across the wall directly in front of her, where the door to her neighbor would normally be. She saw the source of the light in front of her close to the ceiling. It was an uncovered light bulb with red stains enveloping it, cascading around the bulb and occasionally dropping the red liquid into a small pool below. Nicole didn't need to touch it to know that it was blood. She could practically smell the iron.

"Ok Nic," she started, taking in a big gulp of air before letting it out, "keep it together. Just figure this out, and you'll be back in your room."

Despite her surroundings, she was doing a good job of remaining calm. The belief of her false reality was indeed spiking her courage. She stepped out onto the floor again, with both feet and shut the door behind her.

It wasn't the most comfortable surface to be walking on, but she forced her feet forward. The hall to her right seemed to stretch on forever, and was devoid of anything other than a trail of blood on the floor that disappeared past where she could see. To her left was a shorter hall that wrapped around to the left. There was a plain brown door straight ahead, and the area seemed to be cleaner and absent of any substance that didn't belong. Nicole saw this as the better option.

She turned and headed towards the door with a quick pace. She reached down to grab the handle but came up empty. Looking down, there was nothing there. No way to open it. A hard push was to no avail as well. It was time to consider another option. Nicole turned to look down this new hallway, and saw that the first impression of a friendlier setting was merely an illusion.

Everything was in disarray. The blood was there, on the floor in front of her, on the walls and even the ceiling. A few chairs and a table were overturned, manila folders and papers were scattered everywhere, showing the familiar stains that were covering everything. There were pieces of something black on the floor around her feet. Nicole knelt down to discern the scattered debris, which felt like a hard plastic. Standing back up straight, she took a few more steps down the hallway, and spied what looked like a bed with wheels on it tipped over on its side. It was a gurney.

"A hospital." Nicole wondered out loud. "Why am I in a hospital? And whose blood…"

Nicole's thoughts were interrupted by a faint noise. It sounded like it was coming from farther down the hall. It was steady and rhythmic, a dull thud that rang throughout the hallway every few seconds. A combination of the sound and the frosty environment sent chills down her spine, but she slowly pushed forward.

She was careful to look down every so often to make sure she wasn't stepping into blood. As she inched farther down the hall, the sound got louder, and was accompanied by another, faint sound that Nicole couldn't quite discern yet. Running water maybe, she thought to herself. Passing the gurney, Nicole looked down to see a silver tray flipped upside down on the floor, with a few instruments scattered around. She knelt down and quickly snatched the scalpel that she saw. It wasn't the most imposing weapon, but just having it made her feel safer. Nicole clutched it tight and continued down the hall, seeing a dead end ahead, with only a left path to take. Considering the increasing volume of the sound, she was preparing herself for what she might find.

The first thing Nicole saw as she prepared to turn the corner was a crack in the floor just around the turn. She hugged the wall, still clutching the scalpel close to her body. The thudding was now intense, and the other sound which had been faint was now clear, almost like someone was pouring sand or another granular substance on the ground. She took a deep breath and peeked around the corner.

The hallway itself was much like the ones she had went through thus far, with smears of blood along the walls and ceiling. The one thing that was different was the confirmation that she was not alone in this place. The source of the sound was a mere ten yards away, and was discovered to be a hammer, that was being driven into a wall and causing bits of cement to fall to the floor. Holding the hammer was a figure that was a good foot taller than Nicole was, and dressed in what appeared to be black scrubs, complete with a surgical cap and mask. Curiosity got the better of Nicole and caused her to lean out a little more, seeing something else at the feet of the masked figure. It was the same thing that polluted the rest of the area, and was gradually growing in size to the point that it was surrounding the figure's feet. With every strike of the hammer, a little more cement fell, and little more blood dripped from its head.

It came out suddenly and reflexively. Nicole had accidentally pressed the scalpel against her too hard, and nicked her arm. She pulled herself back around the corner and covered her mouth, but she knew that it was too late. The banging had ceased, and had been replaced by another rhythmic pattern, that was drawing ever nearer. Nicole began to breathe heavily again, and it took all of her will power not to completely hyperventilate. The sound drew closer and was accompanied now by heavy breathing that was not her own. There were two options that she could think of, and she didn't know if she could outrun whoever was now coming for her. She slid down the wall onto her butt, thinking that maybe she could slow it down.

She kept her eyes on the corner, so that the second she saw its foot, she struck out with the scalpel and jammed it in. It let out an almost inhuman cry and retracted behind the wall. Nicole took this moment to hop to her feet and bolt back down from where she came. She didn't take a second to look back and see if it was following her; the stomping behind her told that story. Rounding the corner, she slid on some blood and slammed her left shoulder into the wall, but was fortunate to bounce back upright. She did her best to ignore the pain and kept moving, passing by the dark room and starting down the way she hadn't gone before.

"Shit!" Nicole exclaimed while stopping in her tracks. There was a gap in the floor about five feet wide, and darkness below. She couldn't tell how far down it was, nor did she want to risk it. Her pursuer was closing in on her. It was about to come around the corner, and considering that her scalpel barely stopped it, she knew that she was no match for it.

Taking a few steps back, Nicole caught its shape out of the corner of her eye before she ran forward. She wasn't a great athlete, but managed to clear the gap. However, she landed awkward on her left ankle and stumbled to the ground. She began to pull herself forward and turning around as she saw the figure come at her. It didn't break stride as it raised its hammer. Nicole raised her right arm in front of her, closing her eyes and preparing for the inevitable.

She heard another one of those cries for a few seconds, and then nothing. Cautiously, she opened her eyes to see that it was no longer there. All she saw was the black surgical cap that it had been wearing, on the floor right in front of the gap she had leapt. The thing must have not seen the hole, and all that remained of it was the cap. Nicole laughed uneasily, not believing her luck and that for the moment, she was safe. She slowly got to her feet, posting on her left arm and being reminded of the pain her left arm. She winced as she now used her right arm to support herself back standing.

So much for trying not to get any of the blood on yourself, she thought. It was all over her clothes, on her hands and her feet. She felt a sharp pain her feet when she began to walk. The surface on the floor was not conducive to walking on barefoot, and lifting her right foot confirmed that there were small scrapes all along the bottom. Nicole began to walk a little more gingerly down this new hallway, noticing that there wasn't nearly as much blood or grime compared to where she just was. She also noticed an open door at the end of the hall, and something familiar caught her eye. It was her backpack.

Finally, Nicole let out a sigh of relief. This whole encounter had been stressful, and she looked forward to just laying down in her bed and closing her eyes again. Hopefully once back in her room, she would wake up, and have the rest of the night to look forward to.

Nicole staggered to the front door, peering inside to see that everything was as normal, except that Hannah wasn't inside. Why would she be in my dream, Nicole thought to herself, smiling after stepping onto the carpeted floor. It was much more comfortable on her sore feet. Nicole turned around and shut the door, resting her head against it and closing her eyes again. She had made it back.

Suddenly, she felt a tug against her throat, followed by a light breeze. It was strange to feel that in such a place, she thought. It was accompanied by something dropping onto her hands, and her eyes felt heavy. She struggled to keep them opened as she looked down, not realizing just how much blood she had gotten on her skin. It was when she saw more droplets hit that she realized her situation, and brought her hand to her throat. She staggered back while looking at her hand, seeing it covered in dark red. Her legs gave out from under her and she slammed back first onto the ground. She tried to cry out for help, but the blood pooling in her throat prevented it from happening. Everything started to fade, and tears began to form in her eyes. It all felt so real.


	3. THREE

"Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."

-Haruki Murakami

Three

On a normal Saturday morning, it usually took until noon for the campus to start buzzing with life from the student body. The appearance of a couple of police cars, an ambulance and four or five news trucks told the residents in and around Clearview University, that it wasn't a normal Saturday morning.

There hadn't been a death on university grounds in four years, and that was the overdose of a local homeless man who wandered onto the campus. The sad reality was that he was carted off without making any real buzz in the outside world. It was an entirely different situation when a co-ed was found dead, especially the manner in which she was found.

The crowd surrounding the entrance to Warren Hall was a few hundred deep. Rumors were already swirling around on what happened to Nicole Baldwin. All that was confirmed was that her roommate Hannah had found her when she woke up around 7 am. Hannah was speaking with a police officer near the front door, but couldn't get out more than a few words before beginning to cry again. There was too much of a commotion for anybody else to hear what she was saying.

The news reporters were all set up around the perimeter of the crowd. Their respective camera operators were all trying to get the best view of the scene, with a couple of them camped out on the top of their trucks. One of the reporters, the lady from the channel 9 affiliate, was already interviewing some of the students, trying to get the rumor mill working. As she was finishing up with a young man with dyed blue hair, she all but shooed him away in order to get to her next subject. She reached out and grabbed the arm of another student as he was trying to pass by.

"…the fuck?" He asked, turning and yanking out his ear buds. Not only was he startled, but his reaction startled the reporter as well.

"Sorry," the reporter replied while composing herself. She then cleared her throat and held up the microphone in her right hand. "I'm Karen London for Channel 9 news. I was wondering what you thought of this tragedy; did you know the victim Nicole Baldwin?"

The guy tucked his buds over the tops of his ears and looked around. He appeared as if he was just noticing the crowd and the situation for the first time. He also noticed the camera that was now pointing at him, and turned his face away from it with a shrug.

"No, I didn't know her. I just heard that someone died last night or this morning. I don't know much else."

He kept his eyes on the scene rather than the reporter or the camera. He began to walk away but Karen had moved a couple of steps in his path.

"I see. Well, what do you think about what's happened? Do you still feel safe on campus? Do you live on campus?"

He jerked his head back a few inches as Karen pointed the microphone at him. Before he could say anything, a commotion was heard by the front of the dorm. The reporter was now leaving and her camera man wasn't too far behind. He took the opportunity to leave, but looked through the crowd before doing so. The scene itself was jarring to the crowd surrounding it. Two EMT's emerged from the building, escorting a gurney with a body on top of it. Despite a long, white sheet completely covering it, everyone knew that it was Nicole. Her roommate Hannah cried out again, shrinking back against the wall as she watched her friend being taken away.

The guy had recognized Hannah from yesterday. He passed her and another girl on the small wooden bridge. He had locked eyes with the girl that was walking next to her, momentarily thinking that she looked familiar. Was that the girl who had died? It was eerie to think about and sent a chill down his spine wondering if it was her.

A wave of people was coming his way, as if the tragic events had a magnetic pull that only he was immune to. To him, death wasn't something that he needed to gawk at. Perhaps it was the way that he was raised, or the fact that he was there when his grandfather passed away in the hospital, but he didn't need to stand around and watch the poor girl being carted off, nor did he want to be a sound bite.

He crossed the wooden bridge as he did the day before without a second thought. It wasn't a very big school, so recognizing people but not being able to place them wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He barely paid attention to most of the people in his classes, nor was he the member of any after school clubs or fraternities. He liked to keep the circle of people he associated with as small as possible. It provided him the anonymity that he preferred. Even as a kid, he was an introvert at heart. Unfortunately, as he got older, some exceptions to the rule had to be made, so his life at Clearview tended to be busier than he would have liked.

Due to the campus' layout, it only took a little more than ten minutes to walk through from north to south. He cut through the visitor's parking deck at the southeast end, which was always empty between Friday evening and Monday morning. Only the sound of his footsteps accompanied him through the lot, which was welcoming to him after the busy morning he had stumbled across. It also gave him time to perform his Saturday morning ritual. He took off his headphones, unplugging them from his phone and placed them in the pocket of his gray sweatshirt.

He took a deep breath, then began to run as fast as he could across the lower level of the parking lot. He slowed down to turn the corner and run hard up the incline to the second level. This pattern continued up to the third and finally up to the fourth and final level, walking over to the edge and taking a minute to look out across the campus. Beautiful weather for October, Will thought to himself. The campus offered nicer pathways for joggers than the one he chose, but none of them offered the solitude that the deck provided at this hour, especially given the circumstances.

Exiting the parking deck, he found himself on Prospect Road, the south border of the campus. It had a mini mall on the opposite side, with a convenience store, laundromat and a school supplies store, with a Chinese restaurant on one end and an Italian restaurant on the other. He turned east, walking along Prospect and crossing over after about a block. Surrounding the school was a residential area of about five square miles, with an urban area further south which lead to the next town over past that.

It wasn't long before he turned up the walkway that led to a two-story house. The house was much like the others on the block, with the exception of the painted green exterior, which stood out amongst the row of pristine looking but ultimately dull white houses. This particular house also featured a dead front lawn and other signs of disregard. He kicked an empty bottle out of his way as he got to the front door. To his chagrin, it was ajar, not locked as he would have liked it.

The same level of disregard could be found inside the house that could be found outside of it. A soccer jersey hung over the bottom of the staircase's banister and for some reason, there was a slice of pizza sitting perfectly on the third step. He sidestepped the slice and continued up the stairs, walking as quietly as he could so to not disturb the residents which he believed to still be sleeping.

"Yo Will. How was the run?" someone asked.

As he got to the second floor, he saw that the door to the bedroom across the top of the landing was open. It was John's room, the resident night owl of the house. Not that he was the hardest partier, but he purposely scheduled his classes to start no earlier than one in the afternoon if he could help it. Will was surprised that this particular roommate was awake.

"Exhilarating," Will responded while moving towards the door, "but I think this is the first time you've been awake when I got back. What's up?"

John looked disheveled, like he hadn't slept all night. His room was the smallest, and possibly the most cluttered. He sat in his computer chair, keeping his eyes fixed on the flat-screen that he situated against the wall next to the door.

"You hear about that girl, the one who died? Messed up, man." He stated before taking a sip out of the sixty-four-ounce Marvel novelty cup that he had. "I mean, yeah life sucks sometimes, but that's what therapy or posting anonymously on forums are for."

Will took a step into the room, craning his neck to look at the TV. The line across the bottom told him the rest of the story that he stumbled across this morning: 'Local Girl Commits Suicide', along with a photo of a smiling Nicole Baldwin.

"She killed herself?" Will asked while turning back to John. "All I heard is that a girl died. Didn't know how."

"Did you know her?" John asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the TV to look at Will. John was about as expressionless as a person could be, so his question almost seemed accusatory.

"No." Will answered abruptly, taking a step back and leaning against the door frame. "Although she looked familiar. Maybe I had a class with her."

"Doubt it," John retorted, "apparently she was a freshman. I thought she looked familiar too, so maybe she was at one of our parties."  
Will nodded, thinking to himself that it was entirely possible. There was a party every Saturday night here, ranging from fifteen to as many as one hundred and fifteen people, depending on the night. It was mostly his other roommates' doing, specifically Teddy and Curt. It served a purpose to entertain him on some nights, but Will often retreated into his room after a while just to get away. John often opted to hang out in his room as well, being the only straight-edge member of the house.

"I guess they all kind of pass through this place at some point." Will remarked. "Makes me feel like the guide to the underworld at times."

"Charon?" John asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I can always rely on you to fill in the blanks." Will stated with a chuckle. He turned towards the hall. "You want the door closed?"

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna try to sleep for a few hours." John said while turning the TV off. He got up, only to fall comfortably onto his bed which was a mere foot away from his computer desk. "Until next time."

"Good night." Will said as he closed the door behind him.

The second floor had four bedrooms total, and one bathroom. The sixth door on the floor led to the attic, which Will would claim as his room. It was larger than the rest of the rooms, which made sense in his mind, since he paid the largest portion of the rent. It also was the only room which could be locked from the outside. Will took a set of keys out of his left pants' pocket and unlocked the door to his room.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his roommates to steal from him, not all of them at least. Will's room just contained items that he deemed too valuable to go missing. He locked the door behind him while flipping on the light switch. The attic's original layout wasn't ideal, but with enough work done, such as rigging up the lighting to his liking, it was a sufficient enough home. It was a short ten steps up to the final landing on the house, which indeed was the size of three bedrooms. True that the roof sloped to where portions of the attic were uncomfortable to stand in, but he made good use of the space. His bed was straight ahead next to the circular attic window, which had a large dark red blanket over it to block out the sun when he left, casting a crimson glow during the day. To the left was his desk where he kept his computer and a pile of books. He had a futon couch in the middle facing the right side where a large TV and entertainment system was rigged up, mostly sitting on the floor due to height constraints.

The last item of interest in the room was a large rectangle shape covered by a white sheet, which sat inconspicuously on the other side of the attic. Will took his sweatshirt off and had to crouch down towards the area where it was. He rooted around through its pockets, taking out his phone and headphones, placing them on a small table beside the chest. He removed the white sheet, showing off a large, wooden chest was underneath. It looked old, possibly an heirloom, or something found at an antique shop. There were also some undiscernible carvings all over the top, and on the front of it. He twirled the combination lock around a few times to unlock it. It creaked open as he lifted it up with one hand, while rooting around through his pockets with his other hand.

He took out a small, black film canister, and then another. In total, he removed seven of them from the middle pocket of his sweatshirt, setting them on the floor in front of the chest. He opened one of them, just to confirm what he was expecting to find. Plucking one of its contents out, he held the little white pill between his thumb and index finger. After a quick inspection, he found the 'P' symbol he was looking for and dropped the pill back into the canister. He unfolded a red cloth in the chest to reveal that about twenty more of the canisters were already in the chest. Will placed the rest of the canisters in the chest and shut it, locked it and covered it once again with the white sheet.


	4. FOUR

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

-Oscar Wilde

Four

"Thank you for meeting me. I know that it's unusual for a Saturday."

It was unusual for a teacher to request a meeting with a student on a Saturday. William received an email Thursday from his English professor asking to meet and discuss his mid-term project. His class was Intermediate Fiction Writing, where William had to create a one-hundred-page story in the span of a semester. His first fifty pages had been due on Thursday, and William turned them in on time. He didn't know what the meeting would be about, but felt uneasy that it was taking place outside of school hours. William shifted his weight in his seat, trying not to appear concerned. He didn't know yet if he was actually pulling it off.

"It's no problem," William replied, "but it did seem a little strange. So, what's going on?"

William's teacher, Professor Langan, cleared her throat. She was looking down and thumbing through documents at her desk. The meeting was taking place in her office, which consisted of her desk and two large bookshelves on either side of the lone window. It was a cramped space but well kept, with seemingly everything in its rightful place. The walls had the professor's framed diploma and a seaside landscape adorning it but nothing else. Not even a potted plant in the corner for decoration.

The professor herself was a woman of about forty years old and a little contradictory in her own appearances. She had striking dark features, off-set by pale skin which made her quite attractive. However, she seemed a few decades behind fashion, wearing drab, outdated clothes. It was almost as if she stepped out of one of those sepia-toned photos from the early age of photographic technology.

William studied her for what seemed like five or ten minutes, but was probably only thirty seconds. She finally looked up from what she had been reading, and offered him a tight smile.

"Right, sorry. I was just reading one of the projects that was turned in on Thursday." Langan's voice trailed off over the last few words. She held up the pages in front of her and William recognized them instantly as his own work. "Look familiar?" Langan asked.

"Of course, it's mine." William responded bluntly.

"Indeed it is," Langan countered, "however, I'm afraid it's a little incomplete and well, lacking the usual substance that I've come to expect from you in the short time we've had this semester."

William furrowed his brow, doing his best to remain stoic. "Not sure what you mean, professor."

"Come on, Will. I know you're not stupid, so stop playing like it." Langan remarked. She flipped through some of the pages then turned the packet in his direction. "That sentence," Langan started, pointing on the page, "stuck out in my mind for some reason. 'Deep beneath the rolling waves, in labyrinths of coral caves.' It's very poetic, almost too poetic for your style."

"Maybe I had a moment of inspiration?" Will responded, giving a light shrug.

Professor Langan laughed and nodded her head a few times. "Yeah, maybe. Maybe Roger Waters did too when he first wrote it."

It was Will's turn to chuckle now. He hung his head for a moment, thinking to himself how he may have just screwed things up royally. Still, it wasn't over yet, so he composed himself as nicely as he could.

"Didn't know you were a Pink Floyd fan, professor." Will replied.

"I'm not," Langan remarked, standing up now and smoothing out her pants suit, "but like I said, he stood out way too much. The internet makes it easy to confirm any suspicions these days, especially when it comes to plagiarism."

"Come on now," William started, leaning forward and turning the packet back in her direction, "one line in fifty pages? That's hardly plagiarism, that's just listening to music and accidentally transcribing it. I'll take the line out, problem solved."

Professor Langan leaned back against the windowsill, shaking her head. "It's not just the one line, Will. Compared to your earlier work, this seems rushed and lackadaisical. You've got a great foundation for your story, but I can tell this is something you just typed up without much thought. Your language is simple, you repeat the same words for your descriptions and the dialogue is unnatural. All your characters seem to have the same voice."

Listening to all the criticisms that the professor rattled off, Will couldn't help but feel inadequate. It wasn't his goal to be an author or anything like that, but he still had a drive to be good at everything that he did. He thought creative writing could be one of those things, but perhaps he was wrong.

All of the sudden, Langan softened her stance, maybe catching a glimpse of disappointment in Will's eyes. She sat back down and took the pages, sorting them back together and placing them aside.

"Look," Langan started, folding her hands together, "to be honest, it's still one of the better entries I've received. I don't know, maybe I just hold you and a select few up to a higher standard. I'm not going to report you for stealing a line from a song. God knows that harsh actions shouldn't be taken against students at a time like this."

Langan looked uncomfortable, fidgeting as she finished her thought. Will noticed it, assuming she was mentioning the girl that was found dead this morning. The silence built for a minute, neither one of them quite knowing where to pick up the conversation. Will slowly rose to his feet, not wanting to bask in the uncomfortableness anymore.

"I'll make the changes. I'll revise everything and blend it together seamlessly for the final result." Will proclaimed confidently. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

He stuck his hand out, and the professor rose to her feet and obliged him with a firm shake. She gave another tight smile.

"Sure, Will. I look forward to seeing the result." Langan stated.

Will turned to leave, but Langan kept her grip tight, which forced Will to turn back. He looked down at their hands with some surprise.

"Just one more thing," Langan added, "are you, umm…holding?"

A Saturday night at 117 Prospect Road meant that the alcohol would be flowing and the music would be loud. So loud that on occasion, the cops were called to remind everyone of how late it was and that there better not be any underage drinking going on. Eventually, Will and his roommates got the idea to setup the sound system down stairs and keep the basement door open, letting the music filter throughout the house but not loud enough to disturb any neighbors. That and making sure that nobody lingered outside for too long usually kept trouble from stopping by to interrupt the proceedings.

Tonight, however, was making Will a little bit nervous. He was anticipating it being a little quieter tonight, after the death of the female student on campus. Her death seemed to have the opposite reaction however, as the usual gathering was one of the biggest that took place at the house since Will and his roommates moved in two years earlier. He heard several people making toasts and drinking in Nicole's honor, though he doubted how many people there actually knew her. In Will's mind, it was less about people needing to feel alive after a tragedy and more about them just finding another excuse to get drunk.

Another cause for concern was the conclusion of his meeting with Professor Langan. He knew that the drugs had been widely used around campus and around town, but he was never directly approached before, and certainly not by a teacher. Will wasn't a show-off or a grandstander; the less people knew about his involvement, the better. The last thing he needed was attention from the police or anyone other than the small circle who knew the truth. A circle small enough that his own roommates weren't involved.

He did his best to put on a party face and show that none of these concerns weighed heavily upon him. So he found himself in the center of the living room, surrounded by his four roommates and about a half-dozen other people. All eyes were on him and one of his roommates Teddy, who were sitting opposite each other in wooden dining room chairs, set up on either side of a ping-pong table. The two were embroiled in a high-stakes game of Beirut, where the loser would have to take a drink every time the winner said so for the rest of the night. It was Will's own idea, an attempt to fit in with the collegiate culture, and unbeknownst to anyone else, he practiced. Otherwise, he would never have bothered playing. Also unbeknownst to his roommates, he had never gotten drunk, at least not while at Clearview.

So while everyone was clamoring at what a beating that poor Teddy was taking, to Will, it was just what he expected. Will still had seven cups standing on his side, while Teddy was down to his last.

"Remember the Boston Red Sox comeback in the playoffs?" Teddy asked the group before pointing at Will. "He's about to do his best Yankees impersonation. Choke…choke…choke…"

Teddy began chanting while banging his fist lightly on the table, as to not upset the cups. Teddy was by far the most competitive of the housemates, as any natural athlete would be. He put on his best face, but Will knew that deep down, he was hating this. It made Will smirk, and he began to bounce the ball on the table as a means of taunting Teddy.

"You should know by now Teddy," Will remarked, "my balls always come through in the clutch."

Will took a beat after he said it, thinking that it may have sounded better in his head than it did out loud. He stopped, took a breath and raised his hand while closing his right eye. He casually tossed it down onto the table and pushed back his chair, getting to his feet as the ball bounced right into Teddy's final cup. The crowd around them cheered as Will raised a single fist in the air. It was silly, but the attention did cause him to genuinely grin.

Teddy, on the other hand, threw his chair back violently and smacked his cup away, sending it and the little beer that was in it sailing across the living room into another group of people. When Teddy got angry, people tended to stop in their tracks and watch silently. Curt, another roommate who had been watching, laughed and slapped Teddy on the shoulder.

"C'mon man, let it be," Curt said, "Saturday's for drinking and getting laid, not getting pissed. Unless it's pissed drunk."

Curt's smile was big and goofy, and had a tendency to diffuse any situation. Teddy nodded his head and cracked his knuckles, as he usually did when trying to calm himself down. Will moved through the people there, obliging Curt with a fist bump and motioning at Teddy to drink up. Teddy grabbed his beer bottle, raising it to Will before taking a long swig. Will could only revel in his victory for a moment before he felt a vibration against his leg. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. It lit up when he pressed one of the buttons, allowing him to read the message he received.

"Hey Curt," Will began while placing his phone in his pocket, "I temporarily bestow all alcoholic control over Teddy to you."

Curt grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Oh I won't let you down. Hey Teddy, guess what…"  
Will backed up out of the crowd and headed out of the living room. He did his best to move through the crowd unhindered, although he was pulled into a momentary 'hello' hug by a short Hispanic looking girl who he thought was named Paula. While they served as a good distraction, one of the downfalls of these parties was that so many people came in and out, it was difficult to keep track of the names and faces. Because he lived here, people felt like he was their friend.

After freeing himself, he moved past her and out the side door that led to the driveway. Right away, he could tell he was not alone. Nobody was supposed to be back here, or linger outside in general. It was an assault on his senses that he was experiencing, hearing the sound of retching and the unmistakable smell that soon followed. Will pinched his nose, letting out what could only be described as a disgusted sigh.

"Dammit…" Will muttered. He rounded the corner, ready to tell this person that he didn't care how sick they were, they needed to get out of here. "…look, if you can't hold your liquor, maybe this isn't the best place…"

Will stopped in mid-sentence when he saw that the person wasn't alone. There were two girls; the one that had been puking and the one who was acting as caretaker. The caretaker was too busy clearing loose strands of hair from the sick girl to notice Will or at least acknowledge him. The sick girl had one knee down in the dirt and a hand on her friend's arm, but Will couldn't tell if she was trying to push the girl away or use her for leverage. In the middle of flailing limbs, the girl kneeling accidentally knocked her friend's glasses off. It was while picking up her glasses that someone finally noticed Will, and it caused her to fall backwards onto her butt while letting out a surprised yelp.

"Oh! Hey, I didn't see you there," the girl said.

Will stepped forward and extended a hand, which she happily took and used to get back to her feet. She dusted herself off and turned back to the sick girl.

"I don't think we're supposed to be back here," the caretaker girl started while helping her friend up, "but the bathroom was occupied. Do me a favor and let's just keep this our little secret?"

He stifled a chuckle and took a step back. The area still smelled of whatever came out of that one girl.

"Sure," Will agreed with a nod, "our little secret. Just us three, and whoever else is coming from around that corner."  
Will pointed in the direction that he came from, where sure enough a guy was approaching. It wasn't one of Will's roommates, but the nod from Will was a sign that he knew him. The two girls looked from Will to the other guy, then back to Will. The helper guided her friend out of the backyard, but the girl with the glasses gave one last look back.

"See you around school. I'm Dawn by the way."

The girl flashed Will a smile before disappearing around the corner. The guy passed them, craning his head to look them up and down as they went. Will shook his head but the guy just laughed and raised his hand up for a high five.

"You tryin' to score a three-way?" The guy asked. He put his hand down after Will left him hanging. "Loosen up, it's a party, right? Messed up about that dead girl though."

"People die, Jeff." Will stated bluntly. He turned and walked further into the backyard, towards a weathered picnic table and benches. "It's no different anywhere else. What do you have for me?"

Will leaned back against the edge of the table as Jeff quickly looked from side to side. Satisfied that nobody else was there, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.

"Fat stack for ya. Actually sold a shit ton today," he said while smacking the cash down into Will's hand, "ya know, probably cuz of that Nicole chick offin' herself. People wanna get high and just forget what happened."

Will counted the money, not really paying attention to what Jeff was saying, but he nodded nonetheless. He split the stack and pocketed the majority, holding the rest up in his hand.

"You sell to anyone unusual lately?" Will inquired. "Anyone other than a student?"

Will waited for Jeff's reaction, which seemed to be one of confusion. He did notice Jeff hesitate before answering.

"What? No. Why you ask?" Jeff responded, crossing his arms, which told Will that he was getting defensive. After staring at him for a few seconds, Will finally handed Jeff the money that was still out.

"Just making sure." Will stated, as Jeff's posture became more relaxed again. "With the cops and reporters around today, we can't afford to be careless."

Jeff nodded in agreement, turning around for a split second then back to Will.

"Yeah I know. I sold a lot today, but all students, all regulars," Jeff declared, "now if it's alright with you, I'm gonna get back to that party. You coming?"

"Give me a minute," Will said, taking out his phone, "I need to make a call. See you in there."

Jeff pocketed the money discretely, even though it was only the two of them there. He thought it was just the two of them at least, but a third party had been watching the entire time from his spot behind the loose fence post between the two giant bushes near the back. Once he saw Jeff go back inside, the third man decided to step out and cautiously approach Will.

"I really don't like that kid." Will said, looking over his shoulder at the man approaching.

He was a little too old to be a student, and didn't dress like one that went to the school. He wore a black hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans with rips in the legs, but not the kind of rips that were already there for the sake of style. Taking off his hood revealed a man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, with a dark complexion that matched his eyes. He wore a blue and white bandanna around his neck, partially tucked into the sweatshirt but sticking out enough to know that it was there. He sat down at the far end of the bench.

"Why you put up with him then?" The man asked.

"He serves his purpose." Will said with a light shrug. "Rich kids like to spend their parents' money on things they're not supposed to. Like Pure, for example."

As Will said the word, he pulled out a small, black film canister from the inside pocket of the thin, gray jacket that he wore. He handed the canister to the man, as the man handed him back some money in return.

"You got the market cornered, rich and poor," the man stated, getting up from his seat, "they teach you that in business classes?"

Will shook his head. "Wrong major, Narciso. I'm going to be a writer. You know, inspire people."

"Whatever you say," Narciso said, "see you next week. Enjoy your white boy party."

The comment caused Will to genuinely laugh. He stood up straight and turned towards Narciso, who was just leaving the yard.

"Happy selling."

Will walked back to the side door of the house, making sure that the money he received wasn't sticking out. Once back inside, he'd have to deal with drunken revelers who thought they knew him, but at least he could make Teddy drink however much he wanted. He was sure that Curt already made him drink himself into oblivion and was probably passed out somewhere. Will never quite knew what he would walk into at his house on a Saturday. So he prepared himself for anything, opened the door and headed back inside.


	5. FIVE

"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?"

-Garth Nix

Five

At first, the light was faint, barely able to cut through the surrounding darkness. He didn't know how long he was shrouded in black, but when you're without senses, time has an entirely different feel to it. All he knew was that it started as a small dot, which would come to be a small circle of red, forming like phosphenes when you close your eyes.

Somewhere in his mind, he reconciled the fact that he must have been sleeping, because he was unable to move. It wasn't unpleasant though, not right away; more of a dream that had yet to take form. But the longer that Will lingered there, the closer the light came and began to take shape.

The closer it came to him, the brighter it got. It was circular and blood red, but Will could also make out a few other designs that took shape. He could see a triangle and what appeared to be a cross in the middle as the circle grew ever larger, but there was something else assaulting his senses. A high-pitched sound, almost like a whistle, grew louder the closer the circle got. All color began to fade but not into the surrounding darkness, rather blindingly white. It started to be too much for Will to take, and all he wanted was for the darkness to come back.

He suddenly jerked his head up from the desk. Will found himself looking around the room, the way that one does after they dream to make sure that they're really awake. Everything around the attic room looked normal and in its place.

Will noticed the light that was spilling through the room. Usually at night, he closed the curtain over the small window to prevent the street lamp's light from spilling in. He planned on getting his paper done, at least halfway done, but apparently slept through the night. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers. Procrastination was one of his major problems, but he didn't anticipate falling asleep so early.

He hit enter on the keyboard to wake up his computer, but nothing happened. He hit enter again, but still, nothing happened.

"What?" Will muttered to himself, hitting the enter key one more time before pressing the power button. When nothing happened again, Will rose from his seat and knelt down to check the power cord underneath the desk. He pushed it down into the outlet, but it was already secure.

Getting back to his feet, he looked around his room to the small table beside his bed. The digital clock was blank, indicating a lack of power rather than an error with his computer. Will sighed, muttering to himself again. He couldn't remember how far he got on his paper or when the last time he saved his progress was, but there was a good chance that the majority of his work was lost.

Will moved over to the small table, grabbing his phone. He noticed that it didn't look like it was too long past dawn, so maybe he had some time to finish his paper before class. He could just borrow John's laptop if he had to. All these thoughts raced through his head before he noticed that his phone wasn't lighting up after pressing the center button. He pressed it again, but just like his computer, nothing happened. Will popped the card out of the back and popped it back in, thinking maybe that will make a difference. Trying to turn it on again proved just as fruitless though.

"What the hell? An EMP go off or something?"

Will asked himself, hopefully not expecting a response. He shook his phone a bit and tossed it on the bed. He then slipped his sneakers on and made his way down the attic steps. Unlocking the door, he opened it slowly, knowing how creaky it sounded and he didn't want to disturb the rest of his housemates. Sure enough, all of their doors were closed. He did his best to walk softly to the stairs, and seemed to be doing a good job of it because his steps were eerily silent. Even the stairs down to the main floor didn't bend or warp under his steps. Not only that, but the downstairs area was unusually clean.

It was around this time that Will began to think that maybe he never woke up from the dream. He and his roommates cleaned up on Sunday, but it was mostly to make sure that no food was left out and any spills were properly taken care of. There were always spills to take care of after Saturday nights. But there were no clothes or books on the floor; it was spotless.

Will looked from side to side as he walked, peering into the kitchen as he passed. There was no empty pizza box on the counter.

"Yeah. Definitely still dreaming," Will said while nodding, "but at least my roommates aren't so messy here."

A loud knocking noise turned Will's attention towards the front door. He took a step back when he heard it once more, two knocks loud enough to slightly move the door inward. He waited and kept his eyes on the door, but after about a minute, no follow up knock came. It was quiet once again.

It was then that Will decided to move towards the direction of the door. Using reliable dream-logic, that if anything bad happened he would just wake up, he resolved to figure out what had made the noise. He grasped the door knob and slowly turned it while pulling just the slightest. There was still a little hesitance despite his belief that he was still sleeping.

It was difficult to explain what happened next. He didn't pay too much attention, but Will could have sworn that the view from inside looking out was that of his block. When the door opened and the outside presented itself, he found that things were far from usual. He recognized his surroundings, but they shouldn't have been here, at least not in the vicinity of where he lived.

In the distance, he saw the wooden bridge that he'd crossed many times before, except from his house, he shouldn't have seen it. It was behind a row of houses, and a couple of other buildings on campus. What he did see, past the bridge and in the distance, was the student cafeteria, and the rest of the buildings that surrounded the bridge. Even though he knew it wasn't real, Will couldn't help the disjointed feeling he was getting from exiting his house only to find himself someplace different. It took a few moments, but he finally realized where he might be standing. He took a few steps forward and turned around, his eyes immediately being drawn to a small, dark stain on the pavement. He knew it had come from Nicole Baldwin and he knew that he was standing in front of Warren Hall.

The door was ajar, but Will had no desire to enter. He had gruesome nightmares before and didn't need to enter to know what he might find. Nicole hadn't been a friend to him, so he had no desire to potentially see her death. Instead, he turned back around and began to walk back in the direction of his home. The silence followed him closely, muffling his own footsteps on the ground. He never experienced the sensation of being devoid of sound before, and much like the isolation he was going through, it was an unsettling experience. With every third or fourth step, he found himself looking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was creeping up from behind.

He approached the bridge, hesitating before stepping onto it and taking another look around. Still alone, he thought to himself. It felt so real to him, to actually know that he was dreaming and walking through it. Will wasn't much for his mind playing tricks on him, so he decided that getting back to his house and laying down in his bed would wake him up.

Will stepped onto the bridge and was surprised by what happened next. He heard the wood creak from under him, and almost immediately, what sounded like a siren went off in the distance. He took a step back but the sound from the siren grew and grew, until it was near deafening. Will covered his ears but it didn't seem to help; it was as if the sound was now coming from inside his head. With every passing second it grew more and more unbearable, until all he could do was drop to a knee, close his eyes and press his hands tight against his ears.

As quick as the noise came, it was gone, and silence dominated once more. Will opened his eyes and found himself in the same place, but a thick fog was now blanketing as far as he could see, which was only about ten feet ahead on all sides. He got back to his feet with the assistance of the bridge's railing, but must have accidentally slid his hand because of the immediate pain he felt. A thin splinter was sticking out of his palm, which he quickly plucked out and tossed away.

"At least I haven't lost the use of all my senses." Will remarked to himself, sticking his finger in his ear to try and get the ringing out. With how real, or surreal, this all felt, he just hoped he wouldn't wake up deaf. He checked out his hands as he walked forward a bit, the wood not creaking under his feet anymore. Strangely enough, there was no mark where he pulled it out, and the pain was gone as quickly as it came.

On the other side of the bridge, the campus began to take shape the more he walked forward. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about the buildings themselves, other than the fact that there were no people milling around them. Sometimes he would walk through campus past midnight and he would find at least a dozen people walking to and from the buildings. Even at three or four in the morning, he imagined there was some security guard or night owl coming and going.

Just as he was thinking about being the only person in his own private world, he saw a dark shadow in the distance. Will couldn't tell what it was through the fog, whether or not it was a person or an animal, but reconciled that it might be a step out of this place.

"Hello," Will asked, then cleared his throat and cupped his hands around his mouth, "hello?! Is anyone there?! God, if this was a horror movie, I'd be dead in a few minutes."

He muttered the last line to himself while walking towards where he last saw the shadow. The path was leading him away from the cafeteria and towards the quad area. Up ahead and to his left, a large square-shaped building which was the school's library, came into view, and he could just start to make out the large fountain which sat at the center of the quad. That's where he saw the shadowy figure again.

It stood silently in front of the fountain, just out of a clear view. For every step that Will took forward, it seemed as if the shadow backed up, keeping the same distance until it was actually behind the fountain. The fountain was now completely in view, but the shadow kept moving backwards. When he was just a few feet from the circular stone structure, he felt a warm sensation on his left hand, on the same spot where he had pulled out the splinter. It started out as a small, red dot, but grew in diameter before his eyes. After just a few seconds, it encompassed his hand and overflowed to the ground, a bloody fountain emanating from where the splinter had stuck him.

A sense of panic rushed over Will. He pushed his right thumb against the hole to stop the bleeding, but it didn't make a difference. Looking past his hand, something caught Will's attention; the blood on the ground, and the pattern that it was forming. It didn't just make a circular pool like it normally would, but began to take a familiar shape. The same symbol that he saw in his mind was now beneath him, surrounding him by his blood, a sight that firmly held Will's attention until that high-pitched siren returned. Will decided that he had enough, and needed to get out of wherever he was as fast as he could. Luckily, his wish would soon be granted.

Will looked back up to see the shadowy figure standing a foot in front of him. Before he could discern what it was, it reached its left hand out.


	6. SIX

"The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Six

 _Knock, knock, knock_

He wasn't sure if it was the dream he had, or the sudden banging he heard, but for the first time in years, Will was startled from sleep. It wasn't a feeling he liked, which was why he avoided horror movies and all things designed to make a person jump. He wasn't afraid of them, nor did they give him nightmares; it was just that momentary feeling that he despised. To him, it signified a loss of control, and Will always had to be in control.

 _KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK_

The banging was coming from his bedroom door. Maybe because he was dead asleep the first time, but this set of knocking seemed more urgent.

"Hold on!" Will shouted, hoping it was loud enough to quell whoever was at his door. A glance over at the clock showed that it was 7:14. His roommates wouldn't be stupid enough to wake him up this early, nor would most of them even be awake to do so. Something was up, he deduced.

Will got up from bed and walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain to let some light in. He felt a sensation of déjà vu, seeing that it was almost as foggy outside as it was in his dream, a dream that was vivid enough to where he felt like it actually happened.

Looking down at himself, he was comfortable answering whomever it was wearing blue and white pajama pants and a plain gray t-shirt. He began down the stairs to his door and unlocked it, cracking it open to see his roommate John. The fact that John was awake was equally concerning.

"Do you just, not sleep at all anymore?" Will inquired.

"I got a solid three hours in," John replied, looking over his shoulder for a second before turning back to Will, "something's up. The cops are here."

A wave of emotions hit Will like a cold slap in the face. Were they here for him? Had another of his roommates done something stupid? Did they know he had enough supply of Pure that could make the entire campus trip for a week? No, they couldn't, Will thought to himself. If they knew that, it would be police barging into his room rather than him receiving polite knocks.

He nodded to appease John, who was still standing there waiting for him to respond. "Okay, what do they want?"

"Another student was found dead. Just a couple of blocks east." John matter-of-factly stated, pointing east with his index finger. John softened his expression for a moment and looked over his shoulder again. "They want to talk to all of us. Apparently he was here Saturday night."

"You mean last night? It wasn't that long ago, maybe a few hours after everyone left." Will stated, scratching the stubble under his chin.

"Dude, you know it's Monday, right?" John inquired with a smirk.

"Right…" Will started, offering a light slap to his own forehead. He decided to put off worrying about the fact that he seemingly lost a whole day, and focus on the guests that arrived this morning. Will walked down the last few steps to exit his room. He thought about locking it, but didn't have his key, and thought it might look suspicious if the cops wanted to look around. Will was taught from an early age to appear cooperative, but not too eager to help.

"Anyone we knew?" Will asked while closing the door. "The guy who died, I mean."

"Name didn't sound familiar. Andrew something." John said as they both started walking to the staircase, "Oh, and Rory's home, too. Got in about ten minutes ago."

"Awesome." Will said with a sigh as they rounded the corner to reach the main landing. He could see his three other roommates, Curt, Teddy and Rory all talking to a middle-aged man wearing a gray overcoat. Will guessed that he was a detective who chose that career after watching a lot of movies from the 1940's. He was busy writing down what Rory was telling him, and Will was sure that Rory had a lot to say. Rory was Will's least favorite housemate, athletic enough to go to Clearview on a soccer scholarship, which he liked to remind everyone of constantly. Whenever there was something with a hint of illegality, Rory would hold up his hands and remind everyone that he can't lose his scholarship. He was, however, something of a chick magnet, and had a sterling reputation around campus as being 'a good guy'. It did help to keep some of the campus' authority off of their backs about some of the activities that allegedly went on in their house.

John and Will hadn't even made it halfway down the steps when Rory caught a glimpse of them. Will could see a hint of a scowl as Rory looked at him. Rory had a way of trying to look intense when he meant business. It worked for the rest of the housemates, but Will just thought he looked constipated, which he also mentioned to Rory previously. Because of this, they were the two in the house who were constantly at odds.

Rory turned and motioned at Will, dropping his maroon Clearview University duffel bag on the floor in the process. The detective, Curt and Teddy all turned to where he was pointing.

"Ask him," Rory stated, "if anything goes on here it's usually his doing. I was gone all weekend for the game against Meridian."

He threw his hands up and shrugged for grand effect as he cleaned his hands of any knowledge or wrongdoing. And if he could throw Will under the bus while doing so, it was probably a win-win situation. Will gave Rory a quick grin before turning his attention to the detective, who flipped a page on his note pad. Teddy and Curt backed away, looking around for any excuse to remove themselves from the situation. John joined them to the side, and for the first time, Will noticed that there was a uniformed police officer looking around while another stood at the front door.

"Sure," Will began as he stopped in front of the detective and Rory, "I don't mind being asked anything, officer…"

"Rutledge," the detective answered while producing his badge and ID, "detective Rutledge, Willamette P.D."

"William Carroll, nice to meet you." Will responded and extended his hand. Detective Rutledge shook his hand with some vigor and offered a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you too, William. Or do you go by Billy, Will…"

"Will, thank you." Will responded curtly. "My roommate let me know what happened and why you're here. I don't know how much help I can be; despite what Rory might have you believe."

Will turned his attention to direct the last few words at Rory, who crossed his arms in front of his chest. The detective looked between Rory and Will before clearing his throat and settling his glare on Will.

"Well, as you can imagine, the deaths of two students in three days is alarming anywhere, let alone a small town." Rutledge stated while taking a quick look around the place. There were still a few telltale signs of the festivities from Saturday night, mostly in the form of empty beer and liquor bottles on the portable bar down the hall. "Do you mind if we talk somewhere? I just have a few questions."

"I understand," Will responded with a head nod, turning towards the kitchen, "and I don't know about you, but I'm not a morning person. Coffee?"

"Sounds good!" The detective exclaimed with some vigor and followed Will to the kitchen. Will didn't know if he was nervous or hungry, but there was a pit forming in his stomach. He probably should be nervous, especially if this Andrew kid had overdosed on Pure. Even though he hadn't known anyone who overdosed, he knew that it was possible if someone took enough. Still though, he reminded himself to be a gracious host, be helpful, but not look too eager like he's injecting himself in the investigation. He didn't kill the kid, but if this was Pure related, all roads would eventually lead back to him.

The objective now, however, was coffee. There was no point in making himself worry, he thought. It would definitely look suspicious if he started sweating before the detective even asked a question. Will walked to the coffee maker and pulled open a small drawer which held some small cups. They had one of those newer coffee makers which required minimal effort.

"You want Colombian Roast of Hazelnut?" Will asked the detective as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Whichever one actually tastes like coffee." Rutledge remarked, taking a seat at the table in the center of the kitchen.

"Colombian Roast it is," Will replied, grabbing the specific cup and turning on the machine. He loaded the cup in and pressed one of the buttons, "hell of a thing, huh? First Nicole Baldwin, now this other kid…"

"Andrew Gill," Rutledge responded, resting his notepad on the table in front of him, "did you know him?"

Will turned around and leaned against the counter. He shook his head a few times. "No. At least, I don't think so. I'm sure you've already been told that we had a party here Saturday night, or you may have known from past instances."

"Yeah, this address has come up a few times for noise complaints. Nothing beyond that I don't think. It's more I can say for the fraternities." Rutledge stated. He leaned forward in his seat, placing the tip of his pen on the notepad while keeping his eyes trained on Will. "How about Nicole Baldwin? Did you know her?"

"To be honest," Will began, taking a quick glance at the coffee maker, "she looked a little familiar when I saw the picture on the news. It's not a big school, though."

"Maybe you remember her from one of your parties," Rutledge offered, "would have had to have been recently though. She was a freshman, just eighteen, you know."

Will looked back at the detective. He didn't need to hear Rutledge come out and say it to know the insinuation. There were empties in plain sight when they got here, which wouldn't have been lying around if he knew that there would be police in the house when he woke up. Will decided to attack this head on though with a smirk. He put a mug underneath the spot where the coffee would pour out in a just a few moments.

"It's true that we don't typically card at the door," Will replied, watching as the mug began to fill, "however, there are strict house rules which prevent incidents. You said it yourself, a couple of noise complaints is our worst offense."

When the coffee stopped pouring, Will took the mug over to the detective, who took it and nodded his thanks with a smile. Rutledge took three sugar packets from their stand on the table and began to pour them into the cup one by one. Will placed a spoon on the table for him and loaded up the hazelnut cup in the machine for himself.

"House rules huh? Care to share?" Rutledge asked before sipping his coffee.

"No drugs, first and foremost, of any kind." Will responded. "Also no fighting. We've had some housekeeping issues with that in the past."

Will motioned to the wall over the detective's right shoulder, which prompted Rutledge to look at the sizeable dent.

"You know those sticks that make rain sounds when you turn them over?" Will asked, as if reading the detective's mind. "Apparently it's just a bunch of tiny pebbles. Still to do this day, no idea who brought it."

Will's comments drew some chuckles from Rutledge. The coffee was ready, so Will brought his mug over and joined Rutledge at the table. He took a small sip.

"No drugs though?" Rutledge asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not even a little weed? Or those pills which have become all the rage in the past two years, you know the ones I'm talking about, right?"

Will nodded, thinking about the thousands of dollars' worth he had just two floors above them. "Pure, detective. But you already knew that, right?"

"Of course I did, I just wanted to see if you did." Rutledge replied, taking another sip of coffee.

"You don't have to take them to know what they are and what they're called." Will stated, leaning back in his seat and taking a quick look over Rutledge's shoulder. It looked like Rory was scolding Curt in the background. Some days Will wished that Curt would just reel back and knock Rory's block off. He was big and strong enough to do so, but was too nice, despite how boisterous he was. "Word around campus is that even some of the faculty is hooked on it. I'm sure you've had your share of run-ins around Willamette, sir."

Rutledge appeared to leer at Will for what probably a few seconds, but seemed like a good minute. He finally leaned back with a sigh.

"You wouldn't believe how many busts I've made that involved the stuff. You ever seen someone strung out on it before?" Rutledge asked.

Will shook his head and took another sip of his coffee. It was the truth, that he hadn't seen anyone take too much. He did what he needed to do to survive, and that was stick in the shadows. He never put himself in position to be around people who were using it, and didn't care to ever do so. The one thing he did do was make it clear to Jeff and Narciso that they only give out two pills maximum per customer, because of its potency. It may have been risky for him to place trust in what were essentially drug dealers, but from what he knew of Pure, nobody had overdosed.

"Not a pretty sight," the detective continued, slowly shaking his head, "we found this one guy; he'd taken so much that we found him dead, with blood pouring out of his eyes."

At that moment, Will knew that he could breathe easy, but he didn't want to show it. The detective has probably never seen someone overdose from Pure, or maybe he did and understood that it wasn't anything outwardly gruesome. Either way, Rutledge was lying about the after effects and Will may have been the only person around that knew it for a fact. He felt that the detective had nothing tangible at this point, and was just trying to trip someone up in case they knew anything. Will put on his best disgusted face, to at least attempt to make it look like he believed the detective.

"Man," Will said, shaking his head and swallowing hard, "that's horrible. I'm glad I stay away from the stuff."

Will rose to his feet, taking his coffee cup with him. He took a quick sip, and placed the cup on the counter.

"Knowing that, I'll be more vigilant about the comings and goings in here. We both know that with the people who come and go around here, that there may be a little underage drinking going on, and I can appreciate that you don't give us a harder time about it. I'm already treading a fine line, that Pure shit…not the kind of attention I need."  
He didn't know if his little speech was completely bought by Rutledge, who kept a steady eye on him the entire time he spoke, only broken up by sips of coffee. It sounded good in Will's mind at least; he was pretty sure that he didn't stammer and sold it well. There was a stretch of silence between the two, and Will was pretty sure that the detective was sizing him up. Judging by how old he looked, he'd probably heard his fair share of bull shit. Finally, Rutledge cleared his throat and rose from his seat, taking his coffee mug with him. He made his way over to Will and placed the now empty cup on the counter.

"Yeah, I understand the sentiment," the detective began, before looking Will square in the eye, "but to be honest, Pure isn't the real reason I'm here. Andrew Gill was found dead, with his right hand dismembered and a hole the size of a golf ball that we're pretty sure wasn't caused by drugs. I'm here, because Andrew's roommate said that he was at your house Saturday night, and that was the last time he'd seen him."

Will nodded his head slowly, relieved that this visit had less to do with the illegal contraband he'd been storing, but there was still the matter of a dead student, who apparently went missing from this house after Saturday night. He was pretty sure that the detective may have been trying to intimidate him a little bit, maybe to keep pressure in that Will might slip up with something. It sounded like Andrew Gill was murdered, which was something he definitely didn't have anything to do with, so there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.

"However, preliminary reports say that he died sometime late Sunday night, maybe about six to eight hours ago. Plus, he was found at the edge of town, almost ten miles away from here. The fact that he was last seen here is a little concerning, and does put a spotlight on yourself, your roommates and your house guests, and I'm guessing that you can't provide a formal guest list."

"You'd be accurate to say that." Will responded with another nod. The detective reached inside his coat pocket and procured a business card, thrusting it into Will's hand before he could even react.

"Just do me a favor; talk amongst your roommates, see what you can piece together about Saturday night. I know I'm not doing you any favors coming by so early in the morning, but this some serious shit. I'm not going to let Willamette or Clearview University get the kind of reputations that can destroy what life means for future generations. I hope we understand each other."

"Yes sir, we do," Will replies, "if you need anything else after today, you know where to find me."

"Yeah I do." Rutledge responds, offer an outstretched hand, which Will shakes. "I'll be in touch. Thanks for the coffee, I'll see myself out."

Will nodded again, watching as the detective left. He didn't know why he offered to keep himself available for any follow up questioning. He wished that he didn't, even though they would follow up whenever they felt like it anyway, but he felt as though he had already forgotten one of those rules he told himself about. Don't interject yourself into the investigation, he scolded himself silently. It caught him off guard to hear Rutledge's voice, as he hadn't been paying attention to notice that the detective had stopped in the archway between the kitchen and the main living area.

"Oh, one more thing," Rutledge added while looking around, "that kid Rory told me that you pay the majority of the rent here; you a rich kid or something?"

"My family," Will started, heading towards the detective's direction, "comes from what you could call, old money. I don't like to flaunt it, but I like to keep myself comfortable."

"Old money, huh?" Rutledge asks. "Where are you from anyway, kid?"  
"It's a small town in the northeast named Silent Hill. Doubt you've heard of it."


	7. SEVEN

"A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. So is a lot."

-Alexander Pope

Seven

By now, the staff at the Pearl Creek Diner knew the man who always wore a black pea coat. He showed up every morning at seven to have breakfast and read the local newspaper. This had been going on for almost a year now and the routine did not deviate the slightest. Same time, same pea coat; even the same order. He would get two eggs and a sausage patty on an English muffin, and enough coffee to drink an entire pot by himself. After a while, the waitresses would just leave the pot on the table for him.

Despite knowing his morning ritual, there was very little else that anyone knew about him. He didn't speak much, but was polite. He always said please and thank you, but did not engage in further conversation. Jeannie, a young, single mother who had started working just a few months back, tried to make small talk with him. The man wasn't nasty about it, but with short answers and no follow-up, it was clear that he wished to be left alone.

So, they let him be to his coffee and paper, even though everyone in town knew that it wasn't interesting enough to be read every day. Heck, it was only eight pages and covered several small towns in the surrounding area. The past few days told a different story though, with the deaths of two students at Clearview University. There was an unfortunate mixture of real news and puff pieces however, with a lot of speculation as to what caused their deaths but not too much solid information to tie them together. The first girl appeared to be a suicide, while the boy looked to be the victim of a mugging gone wrong. It was still surprising, given the lack of serious crimes in recent history; indeed, the most serious threats to the area were burglaries and vandalisms. The recent events put everyone on edge, and several priests and preachers were already calling for the end of days.

Theresa Dixon, or Mother Theresa as she was known around town, had been working at the Pearl Creek Diner for over thirty years. Not only was she a saint of a woman, like her namesake, but she figurately was a second mother to a lot of residents around town, especially the younger kitchen and wait staff. In a town where if you stayed past five years, you usually stayed for the rest of your life, Theresa was one of the last people to live through the string of killings almost fifty years ago. She was just a teenager, and a lot of her memory about that time was spotty at best, but she could always recall the fear that swept through the community. Eight people had been killed in the span of six months, including the entire Glover family, which consisted of a mother, father and two little girls. One thing that she did regret was not remembering their first names. The chilling conclusion of that case was that there was none. The murders just stopped, and nobody was apprehended.

The only thing that gave Theresa some peace regarding the matter was the thought that the killer was most likely long dead now. She just hoped that these recent deaths on the campus weren't the start of another spree. One thing she did know, is that they're certainly not a sign of the apocalypse. That was just ridiculous.

Like most of the days, Theresa was the waitress for the man in the black pea coat today. She hadn't seen him walk in, but there he was, nose in the paper that was held open across his lap. She carefully carried over his pot of coffee with a quilted pot holder to place it upon. The man looked up from his paper as Theresa put the pot down on the holder, and gave him a warm smile.

"The usual for you today, hun?" Theresa asked.

"Yes ma'am," the man responded with a small nod and slight smile, "thank you."

"You got it." Theresa replied and scurried away to put in the order. The man looked back down at the paper intently. There was an article about the new drug Pure that had been making the rounds in the area, and whether it had anything to do with the deaths of the two students. The man suppressed a smile as he read over the article, which was more opinionated outrage than it was fact. Much like the author, people were frightened and calling for the police to crack down on anyone who even looked like they might take drugs. There were quotes from elderly citizens about all the sinners and how there was never anything like this in the old days. The consensus opinion was that this was big city crime and it had no place in smaller, farm communities. Another quoted person even said that the townspeople should ban together and insist that Clearview University be shut down, and that the students should be displaced from the area.

People were panicking, and the worst of it hadn't started yet. The man knew what was to come, which is why he considered it a great feat that he didn't crack a smile while reading. The reason he stayed in the area was to make sure that certain events unfolded. That was his job; his purpose that the elders back home had given him. A pecking order existed where he came from, and he considered himself to be the good soldier. Not only did he follow orders, but he honestly believed in what he was doing, something he knew not everyone could freely admit.

The man folded up the newspaper and placed it next to him on his seat. He poured himself the first cup of coffee, and took a big sip. He ignored the condiments on the table, not needing any sugar or creamer. He grew up on black coffee and was accustomed to the taste. Where he was raised, everything was plain and simple; there were no frills in their way of life, nothing that could be construed as a temptation from the outside world. After being a part of that outside world, he found that they were much like the Amish, with the main exception being that they still believed in necessary technologies, such as electricity. Still, he needed to act the part; like he belonged in this world that godless ones have created for themselves. It meant being kind to them, and not express any opinions other than stock answers. War was bad, the weather was crazy, and around this area, people were good, simple folks.

Theresa came back with his breakfast sandwich. The first thing that the man noticed was that one of the fried eggs was lopsided on his sandwich. He lifted the muffin top up and lightly jabbed at the egg to make everything symmetrical before he took the first bite. The second thing he noticed was that Theresa had been watching him the entire time, and what he was doing was probably seen as abnormal. By most circumstances it was, but in his mind, it was harmonious.

The man offered Theresa a chuckle. "A doctor once said it was obsessive compulsive disorder," the man started, "but my mother said I just liked everything in its place. She knew me my whole life, so I tend to believe her."

The comment due a smile from Theresa, who seemed to be taken aback by what could be classified as a sudden outburst from her customer. She seemed at ease though and eager to engage. No doubt she would tell the entire staff that she had broken through to the regular that had been the cause of much speculation.

"Well they say that mothers know best," Theresa proclaimed, "it's something I've certainly been trying to instill in my children all their lives."

The man took a bite of his sandwich as she spoke. Another one of his habits, which was noted by the staff, was that he wiped his mouth with a napkin after each bite, and used a different napkin each time. His regimented ways led them to believe that maybe he was a military man. This time was no exception, as he wiped the edges of his mouth after swallowing his food.

"How many children do you have?" the man asked.

"Two sons," Theresa responded, and began to dig into her pockets. The man watched as she proudly showed off a picture of two men, possibly in their thirties, dressed casually in jeans and button-down shirts. He nodded after a few seconds, giving enough time to where he could pretend that he really looked at the pictures like he was interested.

"Good looking guys," the man said, offering a smile, "any children of their own?"

"Yes, the older one, Sean, he has two girls and a boy. My younger one, Darren, he just got married a few months back, so I'm expecting they'll have a little one someday soon." Theresa stated. She smiled the entire time, clearly proud of her children and the families that they've made for themselves. The man smiled back, but only to keep up appearances. He didn't know how much longer he'd be coming here for, but didn't want to chance being kicked out of his breakfast spot. He took a sip of coffee, exhaling and leaning back his seat.

"You have a little…" Theresa motioned above her upper lip.

The man took the hint, and brought a new napkin up to wipe the hairs above his upper lip. His thick beard may have been the real reason for wiping after every bite, so that he didn't have little food bits stuck there for hours. He crumpled the napkin and placed it next to the other crumpled one beside his food plate.

"Thank you," the man stated, "you may have saved me some future embarrassment."

"Oh it's no problem," Theresa responded, waving it off with her left hand. She looked up after hearing the door open, and saw an elderly couple that she recognized come in. Theresa thought of greeting them, but another waitress did the job for her, so she focused back on her customer. She didn't know when the next opportunity to speak with this fascinating character would be, so she wanted to take advantage while she could.

"My name is Theresa, by the way, but you already knew that," she stated while motioning to her name tag. She extended her hand to him, "and you are?"

"Horace Fuller." He responded, extending his own hand and firmly shaking hers, taking care not to grasp too hard. "It's nice to meet you Theresa. I wanted to ask, are you familiar with the town of Silent Hill?"

Passing the time was the hardest part for Horace. Back home, life was simpler but there was always so much to do. He owned a hardware store and worked there all day and every day they were open, which was Monday through Saturday. Sundays were reserved for worship, and working with the members of his church; especially on projects that put his carpentry skills to use. He wasn't born in Silent Hill, having arrived almost thirty years ago, when he was in his teens. Despite being old enough that he should remember life before, whenever he tried, all he saw was a haze of smoke in his mind. He didn't remember his parents, their names, or the town where he was born, nor did he remember how he got to the town. The only reason he knew that he wasn't born there, was because some of the unfriendly members liked to remind him that they still considered him an outsider. In their eyes, he would never be a pure soul.

He knew that was the reason for his current assignment. Nothing in regards to his work made him a likely candidate. However, Father had told him that he was one of the only people that he trusted, and that maybe his past life's instincts would kick in to blend in with society. It wasn't too hard though because he mostly kept to himself. The conversation he had with his waitress earlier that morning was one of the few he had in the past couple of years. That didn't count the conversations that he had every other Friday, nor the one that he would have today, a good nine days ahead of schedule.

The meeting was set to take place just outside of Willamette, a town which in parts reminded him of home. The style of the buildings, the old time feel that it had were reminiscent of what he was familiar with. Of course, the town's population was vastly different, with the college students and staff living in and around the area, plus the poor that inhabited the fringes of the town. It was dirty, and the less time he spent around the town, the better he felt. For someone that had seen a lot over the course of his life, it was telling that this place made him uncomfortable. That was a big part in why he scheduled these meetings just outside of town, at an abandoned gas station that had been long forgotten.

He pulled over on the side of the road, just a quarter of a mile down from the gas station. There was a setup of fallen tree limbs and branches that he used to conceal his car. This was done so that his contact never saw his car, and couldn't write down a license plate or follow Horace after the fact. It's why Horace always got there at least an hour before his contact, and why he didn't leave until the contact did. The walk wasn't too bad, although he was used to making the trek during early morning hours, not in total darkness. Horace strolled confidently the whole time. There were no animals other than deer around these parts, and nobody would be waiting to sneak up on him, that he was sure of.

It was getting colder around this time of year, but he was more comfortable in the cold than the heat. Leaves were falling, half gone from the trees now, his feet shuffling them around as he walked and occasionally kicked up a few. The gas station was in the distance, and despite being desolate, there was a streetlamp perfectly positioned to illuminate the building. He already could make out the graffiti that covered almost half of the exterior. The most prominent amongst it being the word 'AKIRA' in thick, bright red lettering. He didn't know who or what that was, but he guessed that this would be their biggest moment of infamy in life.

He reached the gas station after a brisk walk and went through the back door. Usually there were empty liquor bottles and other garbage left behind from vagrants, but since he had been here so recently, the place was about as pristine as it would get. Since he had about an hour to wait, he reached into his coat pocket and procured a worn looking, brown leather bound book. He walked around the old counter and stepped into the small office to remain out of view.

"I didn't hear a car pull up."

The voice caught him off guard, but he didn't react with surprise. He merely shifted his eyes to the corner where it came from and placed the book back where he kept it. This was truly a day of firsts, as it was the first time he was called to meet ahead of schedule, and the first time he was not the one waiting.

William rose from the folding chair he'd been sitting on and craned his neck to look through the doorway that Horace just walked through.

"Where exactly do you come from, anyway?" William asked as he looked back at Horace and retreated to where he was sitting. He remained standing though, opting to lean against the wall with his arms folded.

Horace walked a few steps forward and sat at the edge of the old desk. He spent a few seconds sizing up William. They didn't speak to one another outside of their two week standing appointments, nor did they speak to each other back home. Horace had seen William throughout the years, and thought him to be precocious when he was younger. As he grew up, it was clear that William was charismatic and kids his own age seemed to naturally flock to him. It was also clear to Horace that this fact was not lost on Will, and he used his natural gifts to often get himself out of trouble. It was one of the reasons that Will was selected and the main reason that Horace didn't completely trust him.

"Why did you call me?" Horace asked, avoiding Will's original question. "Contact outside of the normal time window is dangerous. I'm hoping the reason is good."

"The police came to my house. I thought that was a good reason." Will responded frankly.

Horace froze for a few moments, then slowly nodded his head, casting his eyes to the ground.

"Your antics catching up to you?" Horace asked while taking out a pack of cigarettes. He only smoked when he was stressed, so a pack would last him a few months.

It was also the first time he had cause to smoke in front of Will, who fixated on the event unfolding before him. His eyes followed the cigarette that was plucked from the pack, then watched as Horace reached in and took out a book of matches. Of course, he used matches and not a lighter, Will thought to himself. Horace was amongst the members of town who preferred to live simply, using as little technology as possible. Will suddenly remembered the question Horace asked him, or accused him rather.

"Antics?" Will asked suspiciously. "I do pretty well to keep a low profile. Unless, you've heard different?"

"No, I've just heard about what goes on at these colleges." Horace replied quickly, then scoffed. "Higher learning...so why did the police show up?"

Will took a moment to gauge Horace's response. It was true that he kept a low profile as far as not getting in trouble, but he did have a bit of a reputation around campus. What started as strictly business burned away over time, and he learned how to enjoy himself while not compromising anything. With a little bit of research and people watching, he learned how to influence people, especially the girls around campus. It was the main reason he was popular with his housemates and their friends; the second reason being his liberal spending habits. His house was paid for by his benefactors, so he had disposable income with which he could do whatever he wanted. If everyone was having fun, there were very few questions about his obsession with privacy, such as why he kept his bedroom door locked.

"Two students died, both violently," Will responded, "the guy was seen at my house the night before. There were a lot of people, I didn't remember him."

Horace took a drag from his cigarette, keeping his eyes on Will the entire time. Will wondered if this is what a child who was trouble felt like when his dad found out. He did his best to match Horace's gaze. The man wasn't his father, even though he was supposed to look after him. That was in the beginning, and Will was no longer a teenager.

"Yes I've heard of the deaths. Were there any questions about our product?" Horace asked.

"Casually," Will said after taking a beat, "but there was no indication that I had anything to do with it. They're not used to kids dying around here so they need something to blame."

"And what does casually mean?" Horace asked before taking another drag from the cigarette.

"It means," Will began, shifting weight in his stance, "that they know about the drinking that goes on already, so I got out in front of any questions that might have had to do with drugs. I said that we don't allow it in our house."

Horace nodded, taking one more drag from the cigarette before dropping it on the floor and stamping it out.

"So, they didn't mention anything about drugs, but you felt the need to tell them that it doesn't go on in the house, possibly putting the thought in their head that wasn't there already. Is that summation accurate?"

The way that Horace posed the last question was not unlike someone who would talk with a lesser intelligent being. Will knew enough about the man that he already thought Will to be a lazy, dumb kid, but he thought that Horace may have had a point. Pure was possibly mentioned because Will tried to get ahead and say that there weren't any drugs being used in the house. It's not like they found a whole bunch of Pure near either Andrew Gall or Nicole Baldwin's bodies. Had he put an unintentional spotlight on himself?

He remained confident though, because the detective probably would have grilled him more if he thought that Will had anything to do with either the deaths or the drug. A small community like Willamette that wasn't used to what they called 'big city problems', there was most likely a lot of pressure to close out his case as quick as possible. Will cleared his throat and said, "I'm certain that I'm not under suspicion. They probably would have combed through the whole house if I was. The reason I called is that, even though they don't suspect anything regarding Pure, I thought it was best if we slow down distribution for a brief while. Only until…"

"Distribution will continue at its regular pace," Horace interjected while turning around and starting to walk out the door, "but thank you for your reassurance. I'll see you next Friday."

Being cut off like that agitated Will. He began walking towards Horace, only for Horace to stop in the doorway, which caused Will to stop walking.

"Do not follow me out." Horace threatened, raising his voice for the first time during their conversation. He was usually even tempered, so this surprised Will. Their whole interaction tonight was off, although this was the most the two had talked to each other at any one time. "You have one job to do, and from what I understand, you have a pretty easy and comfortable life because of it. Don't start being sloppy now, not after we've come this far."  
Horace turned back around and walked out of the room. Only when he got to the exit did he speak again.

"People die sometimes, Will. Your college and town will both start to calm down again. I'm sure they were unrelated."

Horace knew the truth of the matter, but there was still much that Will needed to be kept in the dark about. All the children, even the grown ones, were better off not knowing the full story, and what was to come soon. Besides, it would be easier for him to deny anything once more people started dying.


	8. EIGHT

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

-Maya Angelou

Eight

Will sat outside the school cafeteria the next afternoon and thought about the encounter he had the night before. Ironically for someone who valued his privacy so much, he found that being outside amongst a crowd helped him clear his head. He found that being locked away in his room was counterproductive, as when he had a problem, he would just wind up stewing in his own thoughts and going around in circles. The fresh air helped him, even if it was a cloudy and chilly day. He even had a sandwich and a book with him so people wouldn't just wonder why he was sitting in silence or staring off into the distance.

The meeting with Horace had not gone as planned. Truthfully, Will didn't know what to expect. Every other meeting went down the same way, as if they were reading their lines from a script. Will handed over some cash and Horace gave him enough Pure to last for two weeks. Hell, it was mostly gone after just one week, and Will got to keep most of the profits for himself. It was a relationship that Will was wise not to question and it was not too surprising. As he learned from back home that money was materialistic, therefore not of the utmost importance, and Horace acted like a good believer.

Still, he had concerns that Horace seemed to not only know about the deaths around the college, but acted like it was no big deal. There were many rules that he grew up with and were to be strictly followed, but one of the cardinal rules was to not draw attention to yourself or do anything that would draw attention to the Order. Will did not kill Nicole or Andrew, but their deaths brought about unwanted attention. Clearview University put a nine o'clock curfew on the students and faculty around campus, by suggestion of the Willamette police department. Something like that was almost impossible to enforce, but the fact that it was in place made people wary, and talk as if there was some maniacal killer that roamed the campus at night. Andrew was most likely killed, but he was not anywhere near campus.

Worse, the curfew made life a little harder for Will. He was more of a night person, although it hardly mattered because he rarely slept more than five hours a day. Most of the business that he conducted took place at night though, for obvious reasons, but now there was a chance that he would be questioned about his activities if he crossed paths with any officers on patrol. Will would need to contact both Narciso and Jeff to remind them about being careful, and maybe laying low for the next few days. The money they made was good, so it was easier said than done.

Will took his phone out and opened his contact list, scrolling down to Jeff's name. Narciso had way more street smarts, and realistically Will probably didn't have to worry about him making waves. Jeff, however, was most likely using his own product, despite his denials.

"Hey. It's Will, right?"

The interruption caused Will to quickly pocket his phone, which probably made him look extremely secretive or guilty. It was accidental and he even caught himself a little off guard. He looked up and seemed to find the only place in the sky where the sun poked through the clouds, because he had to shield his eyes to see who was talking to him. From the voice, he knew it was a girl, and she looked somewhat familiar but couldn't place her.

"Yeah, what's up?" Will asked, deciding to play along.

The girl chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest. "I guess I didn't make enough of an impression the other night. Then again, you probably remember my friend more than me, although not for the best of reasons."

Will's best guess when she said the other night was the most recent party. Nobody really stood out, at least not anyone that he didn't know, except for maybe the girl that was vomiting in their backyard. The friend, he suddenly thought to himself. Their meeting had been brief but he remembered glasses and blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail. Today her hair hung down shoulder-length and framed her face, which he noticed was quite beautiful. She also wasn't wearing glasses today. What the hell was her name, he thought to himself.

"The party," Will started, closing the book that had been in front of him and moving it to the side, "right, you were with the girl who drank too much. I'm sorry, but there a lot of people there and I'm horrible with names…"

"It's okay," the girl responded, making a horizontal slashing motion with her hand to almost literally cut him off, "it was your house, right? I'm sure you met lots of girls. Dawn, nice to meet you."

He couldn't help himself but to smirk at the formality with which she spoke, and the fact that she extended her hand. Will extended his own to meet hers and give her a light shake, which was met with a firm one in response.

"Nice to meet you, Dawn." Will replied while letting go and retracting his hand. He made a motion for her to sit, even though he wasn't sure he wanted company right now. Still, she was very pretty, and one of the benefits of him being at Clearview was being able to meet, and hopefully later screw, his fair share of co-eds.

As Dawn sat down across from him, a thought crossed Will's mind. "We haven't had a class together before, have we?"

"No, I don't think so." Dawn responded as she furrowed her brow.

"I didn't think so either," Will replied, shifting in his seat and folding his hands on the table between them, "but you seem to know a lot about me. Should I be concerned about having another stalker?"

"Another?" Dawn asked with a little bit of surprise. "Nothing like that, I swear. What'd she do? Or was it a he?"

"It was a she," Will stated, "and maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. So, Dawn, did you need something from me?"

Dawn appeared temporarily taken aback by the question, but Will asked because he was suspicious. People rarely just came up to him like this, and he remembered that his teacher just a few days ago, randomly asked him for Pure. He could count on one hand all the people that knew about him around town, and he didn't want that number to increase.

"Need?" Dawn asked, while leaning forward and canted her head the slightest bit to the right. "What makes you think I need something? My friend Taylor, the one who got sick, she got invited another friend who knows one of your roommates. Kent, I think."  
"Curt." Will replied.

"Right, Curt," Dawn said with a nod, "although I've never met him. Honestly, we were at your house all of thirty minutes that night. She pre-gamed a little too much and well, you saw the result."  
Dawn laughed a little bit, while Will offered her up a slight grin.

"She's good now though, right?" Will inquired. "No trips to the hospital to get her stomach pumped or anything like that?"  
"Oh no," Dawn remarked, "no, I put a bottle of water and her little trash bin next to her bed after I got her back. She didn't even remember being at the party."

"Wasn't really too memorable," Will commented with a slight shrug, "nothing crazy happened, no fights, no noise complaints either. Those are my favorite kinds of parties, to be honest. And you never answered my original question as to how you knew who I was, or my name."

Will didn't want to drop that subject. He was taught to be naturally suspicious of people and their motives, and the recent events around campus and town didn't help matters. Dawn fidgeted a little bit in her seat, but kept a small smile the entire time. She playfully threw her hands up.

"Okay, you caught me, but I promise that it's nothing sinister." Dawn stated, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "I'm a journalism major and writer for the school's newspaper. I heard that Willamette police came by your house asking you questions relating to the deaths of Andrew Gill and Nicole Baldwin, and I wanted to get the story from a source."

"Get the story from a source," Will repeated aloud, "you're using the lingo, I'll give you credit for that."

Dawn chuckled at the statement, but Will stayed silent, because there had to be more of an answer. Why not Curt, since she had already kind of knew him, or at least knew him through a friend of a friend. Will's only vice around campus was women, so maybe she knew someone who he had been with. Even then, he chose to keep that as under wraps as possible. He didn't brag about his conquests like Teddy did, and with the girls he met, he feigned a little bit of inexperience and nervousness. Will basically tried to be as uninteresting as possible to public perception.

"I asked around about you and your housemates." Dawn added, snapping Will out of his inner thoughts. "Talk about a bunch of stereotypes. It's kind of funny when you think about it."

"Stereotypes?" Will asked.

"Well, yeah." Dawn replied, shifting in her seat and bringing her left foot up underneath her, which seemed very uncomfortable. "I mean, you have a jock, a brain, a womanizer and a partier. It's like an all-boys Breakfast Club or something."

Dawn laughed at her own joke, but the reference was lost on Will. He nodded slowly a few times to try and pretend like he understood what she was talking about, but it was clear she was on to him.

"Tell me you haven't seen the Breakfast Club?" Dawn asked incredulously. The real answer of course was no, because Will didn't really start watching movies until he got to college, which didn't leave a lot of time to catch up with the history of cinema. Dawn waved off the question before he could respond. "That's a whole different conversation. Anyway, I looked at all these guys, and then there's Will Carroll. You don't really fit into any category that I can see, which makes you the most interesting of the group, by far. Wouldn't you believe my luck, no later than twenty minutes after I figure this out, I find you here. Sounds like fate to me."

From what Will understood about that statement, his wanting to not stand out had an adverse effect with Dawn. The deaths of the two students were shining a light on him that he didn't want. Hopefully that had less to do with fate and more to do with the fact that they were two students who liked to party. A small part of Will wanted to figure out what happened to Nicole and Andrew as well, especially because Horace seemed unfazed by death surrounding Clearview.

"I'm not sure how to take your silence." Dawn said, waving a hand in front of Will's face while giving him a slight frown. "I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries. I've been told that's a problem I have, I think it's just my nature. Makes sense that I would want to be a journalist, right?"

"You've got the personality for it," Will replied, giving her a small smile to put her feelings at ease, "but if all you want is a soundbite, that's cool. Just make me anonymous, okay? You'd be surprised how much money we make charging ten dollars per cup; don't want to lose out because people think we're talking to the press."

Will shot Dawn a wink and elicited another laugh, or rather a giggle. He knew that he wasn't that funny, but she did laugh quite a bit he noticed. At least it wasn't one of those annoying hoarse laughs or machine-gun style ones. He was under the impression that she was humoring him for the most part, therefore he could only extend a small bit of trust. This was a good opportunity, however, to exploit for his own purposes.

"I do have a condition for my interview." Will remarked.

"Shoot." Dawn replied with another winning smile.

"You have to show me a good time before you get my services," Will said, "maybe a movie first, that Breakfast Club if it's still in theaters, or something else. No horror movies though, I'm not a fan, and it doesn't seem appropriate. Afterwards, I'll buy you dinner and go back to your dorm, or apartment, or whatever and I'll give you what you want."

Dawn nodded her head throughout most of the statement. When Will stopped talking, she retrieved a notebook and pen from her bag, opening the book and ripping out a page.

"Usually the dinner comes first and then the movie, so you get points for flipping the script," Dawn commented as she wrote on the pad, "and unfortunately, we just missed the Breakfast Club's theatrical release so it'll have to be something else. It does seem like a lot for just a soundbite, but I trust my reporter instincts that this will be worth it. Here's my number."

Dawn stopped writing and presented the piece of paper to Will, who took it, folded it up and placed it in his pocket. Dawn looked at her phone and rose to her feet.

"I gotta split, but it was nice to officially meet you Will." She extended her hand once more and Will half-stood from his seat to shake her hand. Felt a little weird, so he stood up all the way as she walked around the table and started past him. "Don't forget to use that number, and the sooner the better."

"That won't be a problem." Will said as she passed him by. He thought for a few moments about what just happened and what he agreed to. On one hand, he got himself a date and something to do rather than be locked in his attic room. He would formulate in his head what to tell her and how much to reveal. Realistically, all she wanted to know was what he spoke about with the police, so it shouldn't be a problem. After all, she wasn't a real reporter, and he would be astonished if more than fifty people read the school's newspaper.

The clouds seemed to grow darker, which signaled Will to grab his book and start heading back to the house. He didn't have anything else to do today, but he wanted to get back and look over some of the stuff he had taken with him from back home. The more he thought about the way that Horace acted, the more he was convinced that there was something he wasn't being told. Even though he was not supposed to question his 'elders', they weren't the ones living in this town while people were dying, and at least one of them was murdered. It was too much of a coincidence for him to ignore.

"There you are!"

Will looked up to see his roommates Rory and Curt walking towards him. It was a pretty small campus, but he thought it was a little ridiculous that he should run into three people consecutively that were looking for him. The way that Rory walked towards him with his 'big boy face', as Will liked to call it to irritate him, meant that Rory was going to create a small scene. The look on Curt's face as they grew closer confirmed this. Poor Curt liked everyone to have a good time and get along. He couldn't handle confrontation or discord of any kind.

Rory stopped about a foot in front of Will, who greeted him with his best fake smile.

"Roomy!" Will exclaimed vibrantly, which caught Rory and Curt off guard. "What's up? I know, it was my turn to do the laundry, but honestly, you can't expect me to wash those drawers of yours. I mean, I've heard of athlete's foot, but athlete's taint?"

Rory balled up his fists, but Will knew that he was in no danger of being attacked. Will wouldn't fight back, not in this setting, and Rory could potentially lose his scholarship for anything construed as misconduct. He just had to settle for putting on a mean face while Curt covered his mouth so he didn't laugh from Will's comment. Maybe I am funny, Will thought to himself.

"Some junkie fuck came to our house looking for you." Rory stated, emphasizing the obscenity in his sentence. People passing by slowed their gait to listen in on the conversation, a point which Will took very seriously. He looked back at Rory and motioned in the direction of their house.

"Why don't we talk about it back home?" Will suggested.

"Why don't we talk about it right here?" Rory countered, pointing down at the ground between them. "Why do you have junkies coming to our house? Do you have any idea of what could happen to me if someone at the school sees me speaking with someone like that? I could lose everything!"

Will nodded and tried to pretend that Rory didn't spit a bit at his face. He did his best to control his temper, especially out in public, but Rory was pushing it. Although he may have been angrier with Jeff, the suspected junkie that Rory was talking about. Jeff knew better than to come around the house without texting first, especially in the middle of the afternoon. Just another problem to deal with, Will thought to himself. For now, he needed to diffuse the situation. He looked past Rory to Curt.

"You ever seen this guy before?" Will asked Curt. "One of our parties maybe?"  
Curt shrugged his shoulders. "I don't remember half the people that show up to be honest. I guess it's possible."  
Will nodded and looked back at Rory. "Okay, so there you have it. Might be someone that showed up and got hammered, thinking that they could score something harder after such a good night. We may not like each other too much, but when you have ever seen me even smoke a cigarette? That's not me, Rory."

People seemed to be moving along once they saw that a fight wasn't going to breakout, but Will's comments didn't seem to assuage any of Rory's suspicion. He did take a deep breath to calm down, as if he realized where he was and how this might look. Rory was as concerned about keeping up a good public appearance as much as Will was, although for entirely different reasons.

"Fine. Fine, Will, have it your way. Just a random who stopped by in the middle of the day, like he was your friend or something. You don't really have any friends, after all. But I know that you're hiding something; none of us keep our bedroom doors locked. One day you'll forget to lock it, or maybe the lock will just come off. Maybe I'll get a chance to see what you're keeping away from everyone. Maybe it has to do with why that guy came around."  
Rory turned to walk away, and Curt followed, giving Will an apologetic look. Will was headed home anyways, so he caught up with them both, walking beside Rory.

"Stay out of my room, Rory," Will remarked softly, "or your soccer career won't end because of a lost scholarship. I'll make sure you walk with a limp for the rest of your life."


	9. NINE

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

~Henry David Thoreau

Nine

When Will opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself on the floor next to his bed. His first thought was that he should probably clean under there at some point, but the thought that immediately followed was just how he got down here without waking up. The fall on his hard floor should have jolted him awake, but he felt oddly refreshed. It felt like some of the best sleep he ever got.

Slivers of light peeked through the cracks of his curtain and illuminated the room just enough for his eyes to need on adjustment. Will got to his feet and leaned over his bed to push the curtain aside. Like yesterday, it was a gloomy day but there was a dense fog this morning as well. It was like the rains had just stopped a few minutes before Will had woken up.

Despite the refreshed feeling he had this morning, his mind immediately ran through a dozen different thoughts. There was concern about his confrontation with Rory. His roommate was a self-righteous prick, made even worse by the fact that he was self-aware and perhaps thought it was a virtue. Still, Rory wasn't above making a lot of noise and pointing the finger at Will for anything he could if it meant protecting his own reputation. He also thought of Dawn, which was a much more pleasant encounter. There hadn't been much time for courtship in Will's tenure at Clearview. The string of girls that came to his house to drink and do whatever it is they need to forget about the school week; they were comforting enough. They didn't ask too many questions, and most of them got the hint when he didn't look them in the eye the next time they passed each other on campus. Maybe it was time he had a little companionship, he thought to himself.

 _KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK._

Will curiously turned to his door. He had déjà vu from the other day when John woke him up to let him know the cops were downstairs. It was unusual for him to feel nervous in any situation; being nervous meant that he wasn't in control of his emotions. He exhaled and grabbed a dark gray hoodie, putting it on while walking towards the steps to the second level. A dozen scenarios ran through his head, including Rory being stupid and confronting him about what was said a few days ago.

Will reached for the knob, giving it a twist and pulling, but it didn't budge. He pulled again, but nothing happened.

"Whoever is holding the door knob, quit fucking around. It's too early."

There was no response from the other side. After a few more seconds, Will grabbed the doorknob and yanked twice as hard as he had before. The door flung open at him, causing him to stumble backwards and winding up in a sitting position on the second step. He silently cursed at himself and started to stand but froze about halfway up.

The rather bare walls of his house's second floor hallway were not five feet in front of him as it should have been. Instead, his attic door opened to the outside. It wasn't the outside of his house though; not like looking through the front or back door. Just like his dream he had a previous night, fog was shrouding the area, so he could only see maybe twenty feet in front of him, but it was enough clarity for him to recognize the Clearview campus. He was looking out from the view of one of the dormitories. Which one, he had no idea. That probably wasn't too important.

Will turned around to see if he was still in his room, and he was. Everything was there as it normally would be. He took a breath and closed his eyes, opening them when he turned back to step through the threshold. He knew it to be a dream, and he was curious to see what would happen.

A dozen thoughts were racing around his mind as he began to cut through the fog. Why was he having these dreams? He never had them before, nor had he ever really dreamed that much period. Not ones that he could realize he was dreaming in the middle of said dream especially. He recognized that he was in front of Warren Hall. He'd been through the area the other day after that girl Nicole Baldwin died. Was there any significance as to why he was here? Why was he always the only one around, and why was there always dense fog surrounding him? Maybe if he paid more attention in psychology class he would've known the answer, if they covered subconscious weather patterns.

Most importantly though, was the underlying feeling of dread. The last time he had a dream like this, something lashed out at him. He didn't know what. It seemed vaguely human, and even though it was just a dream, he was back here. There was a new importance as he looked around the desolate campus, letting out a sigh before cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Hello?!"

Will shouted, despite feeling the inevitability that he was not going to get an answer. He would try to make a point to include some women, or at least a hot dog stand next time. Maybe he could go to the library and find a book about dream control.

 _clang…thud…thud_

It was faint, however a sound caught Will's attention. In a world devoid of sound where the air just hung in place and not even the breeze blew in from time to time, it was practically deafening. Whatever the source, it was coming from the direction of the quad. He figured there was some importance, and that was the start that Will needed to figure out what was going on.

The walk through the campus was again, a lonely one. Just like the other night, the buildings all seemed normal on the outside. Everything was spot on, down to the last detail, like the slightly askew 'T' in the word 'Theater' above that building's set of four glass doors. Scaffolds hung from a few of the older buildings that were having brick replacements and repair done. If William had closed his eyes and thought about it, he wouldn't have been able to bring up every single small detail, but here it was in his subconscious. He took a slight detour to peer inside the lobby of the theater, and Will found that everything was where it should have been inside as well, except devoid of life of course. But there was life somewhere, and he was getting closer to the discovery.

 _Clang…Thud…Thud. Clang…Thud…Thud._

Will took the path next to the theater that ran adjacent to the Hart Canal, which was simply a five-foot-wide creek that ran from east to west through the campus. He assumed that someone named Hart had been important in the campus or region's history, although why it was referred to as a canal escaped all logic. The path was obscured from the quad by trees, shrouding the path in permanent shade, even on the sunniest days. It was strange. The fog didn't seem to be as dense along the path. He could almost see where the path merged into a larger one that led directly to the quad area. Also strange was the outside wall of the theater. It was one of the newer buildings on campus, therefore not made of brick, but rather was concrete and white in color. So why was he imagining that the walls were gray?

Further down the path, he noticed writing on the wall. Upon closer inspection, it was red spray paint, and it read, "Speak. I am the Crimson One." Will felt as though he had heard that before. Was that something from a book back home? He couldn't remember hearing about a Crimson One, although he had read a lot of what they would call 'scripture' and couldn't remember everything. Not since he had been gone for so long at least.

 _Clang….Thud…Thud._

The noise snapped Will out of it and he continued down the path. Finally, he was out of the shade, but back in the fog. A figure started to take shape as he drew closer. At first, he thought it was the large fountain that was usually horribly littered, but the figure was moving. Closer still, he saw that it was a person.

It was a kid; a kid who couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. He had a small aluminum baseball bat and kept hitting a baseball against the wall of the old administrative building. Will watched as the kid smacked the ball with not much power, and the ball scrape down the wall to the ground. The kid jogged to get the ball, ran back to the same spot and did this all over again. What was this kid doing here? Will started to approach but stepped on some uneven payment and stumbled a few steps, catching the kid's attention.

There was a moment where the two locked eyes and Will wondered if the kid was going to run away, or worse, try to attack him with the bat. It didn't make logical sense, but this place was not for logic. To Will's surprise though, the kid just turned back around and hit the ball against the wall. His presence didn't seem to bother him. Unfortunately, now Will was bothered by that thought. Immediately he wondered if he was dreaming about his younger self, but this kid's hair was way too dark.

"Do you want to throw me the ball? I'm bored tossing it to myself."

The kid's comments threw Will out of whatever slight trance he had been in. He found himself nodding and heading over to where the ball lay from the last time the kid hit it. Will scooped it up and turned to the kid, already in his batting stance.

"You here by yourself?" Will asked, tossing the ball at the kid, however it landed about two feet too short. The kid bent down to pick it up and throw it back at Will, who caught it one-handed.

"At least you can catch." The kid remarked, beckoning Will to come closer.

Will stood his ground and threw the ball again, this time about as perfect a strike as he was going to throw. The kid swung and missed, and the ball skittered down the sidewalk with the kid jogging after it. Will took the opportunity to look around the area for others, but there was nobody. It was just the two of them in this strange, fog campus. The kid came back to his spot and threw the ball back.

"Why don't you bat against the wall? This way you don't have to chase the ball if you miss again." Will asked.

"I won't miss again," the kid replied, "besides, I'm trying to hit my spot."

"What spot?" Will asked, turning to examine the wall. There were no markings, just a few imperfections that probably weren't caused by the baseball.

"Just throw the ball."

Will stared at the kid incredulously. Here he was, seemingly alone and he was mouthing off to the only other person here. An adult no less, who could have taken that bat away at any time and done who knows what. Nevertheless, Will stepped forward and threw the ball, putting a little extra on the throw. The kid reared back and swung, smacking the ball about ten feet to the left of Will's head and slamming into the brick wall behind him. Will couldn't help but wince and shade a bit right as he watched the ball, then looked back at the kid with a nod.

"Nice hit. What's your name kid?" Will asked.

Before the kid could respond, the two heard a wailing sound from the distance, coming from the direction of town. The sound grew louder and louder by the second, reminding Will of an air raid siren that he had seen from a video in his American History class. The wailing grew louder and louder, causing Will to put his fingers in his ears. His attention was drawn downward as his elbow was yanked.

"C'mon, they're coming! We gotta get inside!"

"Who's coming? Inside?!" Will asked, not realizing that by his second question he was now shouting.

The kid broke out into a sprint as Will stared at the direction of town. He covered his ears again and would have moved if he didn't see that the fog was starting to shift in the distance. It wasn't just that the fog was moving away to clear up the area, but it was literally splitting in half, as if it was getting out of something's way. Even with his ears covered, the wail of the siren was too much and had invaded his brain as a form of white noise that he couldn't shake. He couldn't tell if he was shouting out in pain, but it felt like he was. The pressure it was putting on his head was too much for him to bear, and he dropped down to one knee and slammed his eyes shut. The last thing he saw was the fog dissipating before his eyes, to make way for suffocating darkness.


	10. TEN

"Ordinary morality is only for ordinary people."

-Aleister Crowley

Ten

It was tough for Will to decipher what the dreams he had been having recently were about. There was an obvious isolation theme with walking around a deserted campus, fog shrouded much of the area except for a small radius of clarity that surrounded him. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him that he wasn't thinking clearly, or that he was missing something obvious in his life. But then the kid showed up, which he determined wasn't him nor did it look like anyone he knew as a child. Baseball was something he didn't get to play or know much about. Then the siren; that deafening wailing that somehow seeped into his mind. If he closed his eyes he could still hear it, muted, but lingering somewhere in there.

Will tried not to let it consume him. They were only dreams, after all. He had more pressing matters to attend to, which is why he was riding a bus to the far side of Willamette. For a couple of years, everything had gone smoothly. His distribution of Pure to the townspeople and the college students brought in a good profit. Word had even spread beyond the town, which pleased Horace and the rest of the folks back home. At least he thought it did. In his mind, the point was to reach as many people as possible, and to fund whatever agenda the church back home had. Getting a college education and a chance to escape was a nice little bonus. He would never dare utter that to Horace, or much of anything else. Will got the sense that Horace tolerated him, even though Will had never been difficult to manage or one to make waves. But the waves were starting to form on their own now, and if he didn't get the prospective storm under control, he could find himself cut loose. Maybe even wind up in jail as a fall guy. There was certainly enough evidence in his room.

The end of October meant a couple of things for Willamette. Halloween was a few days away, of course, which meant drunk college kids stumbling around and inevitably a few of them would get arrested. Cops must've loved the overtime pay that Halloween brought them every year. But it was also the rainy season, and often a cold front would roll through, bringing some rough winds. It was the fourth year that Will lived here, and he noticed the same pattern every year. This year though, there hadn't been much rain or wind. It was unusually sunny and warm until two weeks prior, but it did slowly start to get cooler. What Will found unsettling was the fog that was starting to develop around the campus and the town. It seemed to get thicker every day. He couldn't remember if the fog had shown up in the real world or his dreams first.

The town of Willamette had a split personality. Clearview University was on the southeastern border of the town, which was a very quaint area, with mom and pop stores around the main streets. He had heard a girl at a party once say it was rustic chic, whatever the hell that meant. The further north and west you got though, there were less adorable stores, friendly pets and smiling old people, and more stores with bars on windows, or steel shutters pulled down over doors. Smiles were substituted with suspicious glances. Will tried his best to look inauspicious with a frayed, dark gray hoodie and jeans. He must've been succeeding because people left him alone the entire trip.

He got up as the bus approached its stop. A middle-aged woman was getting off the stop too, so Will let her get up in front of him. Naturally, no thanks were provided, or even much of an acknowledgement from the woman. He got off after her and looked across the street at the dilapidated four-story building. There were broken windows to be seen on almost every floor, with some even boarded up. It was not a place that he would go uninvited, or even if he was invited. His visit today was, unfortunately, a necessity.

The fog had started to get a bit thicker, and it was only when he was halfway across the street that he saw three guys hanging out by the doorway. One of them was enormously fat, the other two looked about his size. They were all wearing hoodies of course, and one of them was even wearing a hat covered by the hood. Will didn't understand the point of that, but it was not his place to question fashion choices of people who hung out here.

As Will got closer, the three took notice of him, at which point Will began to slightly shiver. He held his hands together up to breath on them and rub them together, not breaking his stride. Will looked to each of his sides twice, before looking back at them and stopping about five feet away. The guy wearing a hat and a hood stepped forward and held a hand up. Will kept his hands up in full view of them.

"Yo, uh, I was uh…" Will started, scratching at his neck and twitching his head just the slightest, "…um, I heard I could get fixed up here."

"Fixed up? Nah, you must be confused," Hat and Hood Guy started while shaking his finger and pointing down the street, "I think you wanna head back where you came from. Nothin' for you here."

Will looked down the street then back at the guys. He forced a cough, which caused the lead guy to back up a step and look at him with disgust.

"C'mon guys. My friend Mr. P said to ask for Narciso. He said…"

"I don't care what he said, white boy," the lead guy interrupted and started drawing closer to Will, "I said we ain't got nothin' for you here!"

Behind him, the jumbo guy took out a cell phone to make a call. Will's eyes darted between the two of them but fixed on the lead guy who made it a point to show a gun tucked between the waist band on his pants. Will took a step back for every step that the guy approached, holding up his hands again and trying his best to look pathetic. It probably wasn't too difficult, and the thought did cross his mind that it would have indeed been pathetic if he was shot and killed here. Thankfully, he didn't have to think about it too long, as the big guy interrupted.

"Boss says to let him up."

The other two guys looked at the big guy with some surprise, and Will hid a smirk, followed by another couple of coughs. The lead guy stepped out of the way, and Will moved past the three of them into the building. He was vaguely aware that he was being followed by at least one of them as he walked in.

It wasn't much warmer inside. The lights were very dim, with some pockets of darkness in the hallways. The lobby area was deserted; its walls showing the telltale signs of neglect with the occasionally graffiti. One of the words that was sprayed in black simply read, "HELL". Of course, there were names or tags of the artists, but the big one that caught his attention when he faced the hallway wasn't a word at all, but a drawing of a circle with the letter P inside.

"That way, top floor." Will jerked forward and the shove he received from behind and turned to see the thug with the gun that had given him such a warm welcome point down the left hallway. "Go right there."

Will nodded and started down the hall. The lack of respect bothered him, but nothing good would have come from starting a fight.

Pure wasn't the only drug of choice for the denizens of the building. Though he had never taken it, Will knew what the side effects were and how people acted on it. So, he could tell as he peered into the different rooms on his stroll down the hallway who was on it and who was tweaking on something else. The people with the big, silly smiles plastered on their faces and the vacant looks in their eyes were on the product that he supplied. A middle-aged man dressed in rags at the foot of the staircase, with dirt caked permanently into the skin on his face and under his fingernails, however, was on an entirely different trip. A trip that he didn't want to take, but one his body demanded. There was no smile on this man's face; only hints of despair and anguish behind brown eyes.

When he got to the fourth floor, it was easy to figure out where to go, since there was a pile of rubble from the floor to the ceiling to his right. He could also follow the trail of hip-hop that was gradually increasing in volume. People also seemed to live on this floor, as every doorway actually had a door, and it seemed to be maintained in comparison to the others. That was discounting the gigantic blockage behind him.

The only door that was open was the one where Narciso and another guy were playing a basketball video game. There was a small bag lying open on the table, with what looked like a dozen or so empty film canisters, which is what Will used to transport Pure. Will cleared his throat to get their attention. The other guy in the room jumped up as if getting ready for a fight, but Narciso coolly paused the game and waved Will win.

"Head outside and watch the hall. Make sure nobody comes in okay?" Narciso asked the other guy, but it sounded more like an order.

The other guy nodded and started to the door. Will could feel the guy size him up as he walked past, shutting the door behind him. Upon getting a clearer look, he seemed more like a teenager than a man. Something about the way Will looked at him didn't sit right.

"Does he know who I am?" Will asked while pointing at the door.

"Don't worry about it," Narciso started, getting up from the couch and walking towards the small table where the bag was, "he's my brother."

They both sat down at the same time on opposite ends of the table. Will opened the bag a little more to peer in. All the bottles were empty.

"How old is he?"

"Old enough." Narciso stated, nudging the bag towards him. "Looks like we're getting even more popular."

Will moved his hands through the bag, counting to himself how many empties there were. He furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"What do you mean? This is about the same as normal."  
The slamming of another bag down onto the table startled Will. Instead of looking up at Narciso, his eyes moved to the next bag, which was also open and full of empty canisters and what was most likely his share of the money. Taking another quick count through the bag, now Will was surprised.

"All of it?" Will chuckled in disbelief. "You sold out of everything already?"

"About a week ahead of schedule." Narciso nodded, leaning back in his chair and motioning to the bag. "That's got your cut in there too. You can count it if you want."  
"I'll take your word for it." Will replied.

He closed the bag and laid it down by the side of his chair. His amazement at the rate of which Pure was selling quickly subsided though, and the real reason he wanted to meet in person bubbled to the surface. He sighed heavily and put his elbows up on the table, so he could hold his forehead in his hands.

"I've had two unwanted visitors to my home in the last week. A detective came by my house because the second kid that got killed was at one of my parties. I haven't heard anything since then, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't suspect anything."

"What's the name?" Narciso asked while getting up.

"Ridley?" Will wondered out loud before shaking his head. "No, Rutledge."

Narciso opened a miniature refrigerator and pulled out a pair of beers. He offered one to Will, who accepted with a nod, strictly so he didn't seem an ungrateful guest.

"Don't know him, can't help you there." Narciso remarked while popping the tab on the can and taking a sip.

"Would you be able to help if you did?" Will inquired, repeating Narciso's actions.

"Maybe," Narciso said with a light shrug, "I've come across some of them. Even have a pair on the take. Filthy pigs are the best ones, right?"

Narciso winked at Will, who was taken aback by this revelation. It got him thinking that his partnership was extremely beneficial and at least he made one good choice in a distributor. But if Narciso had a couple of cops in his back pocket, what else was he capable of? And what were his long-term plans?

"How come I was never informed of this?" Will asked as he leaned back in his seat.

"The way I figure it, the less you know about certain things the better," Narciso started before taking another sip of his beer, "there's nothing that links you to either of them. If shit goes down, your hands stay clean, boss."

There was a certain emphasis on the word 'boss' that Will didn't particularly love, but Narciso had a point. There were enough people who knew about his involvement. From what his distributor was telling him, nobody in the police department knew. That provided some comfort.

"Who else came?"

"What?"

"You said you had two unwanted visitors," Narciso held up two fingers as he said the word, "who else came by?"

"Oh yeah." Will nodded and took another sip of beer. "Jeff; that fucking preppy stoner who handles most of the campus' supply. He came by the house when I wasn't there. Of course, he was strung out when he did, so now my roommates have questions."

"Questions aren't good. You know where he lives?" Narciso asked casually. "I could pay him a visit."

"Pretty sure it's somewhere on the north side of campus, but that's probably not the best idea. If something happened to him, he seems the type that would leave everything out on his living room table for the cops to find."

"Shit, I didn't say I was going to kill him. Maybe just put the fear of God into him."

They both finished their beers and Will got up from his seat. He began to consolidate all the money and empty canisters into one bag, handing the other back across the table. The window behind Narciso caught Will's eye momentarily. He wasn't sure what should have been there, but all he could see was a wall of gray. Everything that was happening around the town, combined with his dreams he was having, started to unnerve him.

"Anything ever happen around Willamette like this?" Will asked, staring out the window. "Two people dying in that close together? Both violent deaths, Pure selling out so fast. I think we stop for a little while. See what happens over the next few weeks."

Narciso got up and looked out the window with Will, taking his beer with him. He took another sip and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Probably a good idea. Also, there were three deaths."

"What?" Will inquired while turning to look at Narciso. "Three? Was someone else killed today?"

"Saturday night. When you had that party. Guy just walked out in front of a bus, two blocks away. I was chillin' here and heard everything. Went outside to see what happened, and the guy was everywhere, all over the road. Driver was all messed up. She said for a split second she saw the guy stepping out on the road, and he was smiling. She didn't have a chance to hit the brakes."

Will frowned while listening to the story. A guy smiling while committing suicide by bus was creepy, but that didn't seem to fall in line with the other two deaths.

"He was one of your best customers, too." Narciso mentioned while walking back to the table. He grabbed the full bag and lightly smacked it against Will's chest, who instinctively grabbed it.

Will didn't take his eyes from the window, however. He was processing the last words from Narciso, and the sinking feeling in his gut that Pure was related to everything that was going on. Perhaps there was a lot that he had been left in the dark about. But that wasn't the reason he stared out the window. Through the smoke screen of gray, he thought he caught a glimpse of something cutting the air. It cast a momentary shadow that darkened the sky, and he would have missed it had he not been looking. Ultimately, Will decided that his mind was playing a trick on him. No bird is that big.


	11. ELEVEN

"Watch out. The gap in the door…it's a separate reality"

~Anonymous

Eleven

"Teddy didn't come home last night."

All the other roommates in the house were in the living room, eating whatever breakfast they grabbed that morning. For Curt and John, it was cold, pepperoni pizza. Will was in the middle of buttering a bagel, while Rory sat on the bottom few steps and was working on the second of three granola bars. John, however, was staring down at his slice.

"Really?" Curt asked in mid-chew. "That's weird. He went out with that chick last night, right? What was her name?"

"Lauren," John replied but didn't look up, "yeah they went to the movies. Another Love Song. It's a romantic dramedy."

"Right, Lauren. Heh, Teddy went to see a chick flick!" Curt exclaimed, finishing his bite. "Maybe he was really tired and fell asleep when they went back to her place?"  
"Or he just stayed the night?" Will offered.

John finally looked up and narrowed his eyes at Will for a moment. He vehemently started to shake his head.

"No. No, Teddy would never sleep at a girl's place, or anyone else's place."  
"Okay," Will started, taking a moment to bite into his bagel, "and why not?"

There was a silence in the room after Will's question. He didn't notice at first and continued to eat, but then he noticed that all three of his roommates were looking at him.

"What?" Will asked, looking back and forth between Curt and John.

"Teddy has a CPAP mask," said John, getting up from his seat, "he has sleep apnea."

John walks towards the stairs and past Rory, who stands and moves out of John's way. A door can be heard slamming shut and Rory takes a seat opposite of Will.

"Shows how much you know about the people you live with." Rory proclaims. He sits back against the couch and levels a stare at Will. "Teddy never told anybody about having to wear that mask. I guess you never noticed how he always comes home after a date though, huh?"

Will looked down at his food, but his appetite had diminished. With everything strange that was going on around campus and town, his roommate not coming home was a little troubling. He felt a bit guilty not knowing about Teddy's sleep apnea, but he had a lot on his mind. It wasn't easy juggling two sets of lives. Being scolded by a bratty twenty year didn't make it better.

"Most of us here," Rory continued, "know a lot about each other. We know about each other's families, our goals and aspirations after Clearview; we even know about things like allergies or medical conditions. But then there's you Will."

Will looked up at Rory, was getting back up and making his way around the coffee table to stand over Will. Curt shifted uncomfortably in his seat and avoided making eye contact with either of them.

"We've all been roommates for like two years now, and what do we know about you? We know that you're like five years older than us, that you're from some town nobody's ever heard of on the east coast, and that you have a lot of money at your disposal. We know that you disappear during all hours of the day and night, and that you keep your room locked. That says to me that you have serious trust issues, or that you're hiding something. I think it's the latter. So, what're you hiding up there, Will?"

He had seen Rory intimidate people with his size before, but that just wasn't going to work here. Will scoffed and leaned back with his arms folded over his chest.

"Rory…if you want a pair of my boxers to keep under your pillow, all you have to do is ask."

Despite knowing that a fight wasn't what he needed right now, Will couldn't help himself. Maybe it was the way Rory's face turned beet red whenever he was pissed off. Something about seeing the kid angry amused Will. To his surprise though, Rory laughed off the comment. Curt began to laugh too, probably because he didn't know what else to do.

"That's a good one, old man." Rory clasped his hand on Will's shoulder. Will looked at him and did a quick size-up, more out of instinct than the thought that Rory would attack him. "That's good. I'm glad you have such a fantastic sense of humor. Must serve you well with all the sketchy company you keep."

Rory removed his hand and started back towards the staircase. He stopped on the bottom step.

"I recognized that kid from campus, so I did some asking around. His name is Jeff Trabor. He's a junior and a chemistry major. Rich kid; has a nice Benz. Didn't seem to be looking so good when he came around though. He looked a little twitchy. On Pure, if I had a guess. Why did he want to see you so badly?"

Will didn't respond, nor did Rory give him much time to before going back up the stairs. Will sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Three people were killed in such a short amount of time. The dreams that he'd been having, the way Horace was dismissive of the attention that the deaths could cast on Pure. He felt like everything was related. Hopefully, Teddy just got back to his date's place late and fell asleep on her couch.

"So," Curt began, catching Will's attention, "any plans for tonight?"

"Yeah, actually. I have a date." Will said.

"You? Have a date?" Curt questioned with a smirk, then began to chuckle. "I thought you preferred that one and done lifestyle? Monogamy is a social construct and all that."  
"Social construct? That doesn't sound like me." Will replied.

"Yeah maybe that was John describing you." Curt added with a nod. "You don't prefer dates though, so this one must be pretty hot huh?"

Will nodded with a grin. "Yeah she's a piece alright. Also seems to be pretty smart, too. She wants to do an article on me for the school paper."

"An article? Why?"

"She found out that my hometown has a history of tragedy." Will says thoughtfully, looking down at his half-eaten bagel. "She's going to be disappointed, though. It's not going to be as interesting as she thinks."

The movie theater was only ten blocks away from Will's house, and considering how debilitating the fog was growing, both Will and Dawn decided that walking would be the best idea. They didn't see many sets of headlights on the road passing them by, in fact. On a normal Saturday night around eight o'clock, there'd be both a line of cars on this street and packs of co-eds walking along the sidewalks on both sides. The theater was firmly in the center of what was known as the Campus Crawl, a six-block radius with a bar on every corner. On the weekends, the area was metaphorically crawling with college students, and by around one or two in the morning, some of the students were quite literally crawling back to campus.

"I hope you know that just because you picked a movie, that doesn't mean that I'm still not gonna get an interview out of you." Dawn pipes up, breaking a minute of somewhat uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry?" Will asks.

Dawn chuckles at the response, reaching out to lightly jab his arm. "Deep in thought, were we?"

"Yeah, maybe a little bit." Will smirks and runs a hand over where she had playfully punched him. "One of my roommates, Teddy, didn't come home from his date last night. With everything going on around the campus, we're a little worried."

"Understandable. Is it like him to not come home?" Dawn questions, and Will notices what he believes to be a genuine look of concern on her face.

"Apparently not, but I didn't really know that." Will responds with a light shrug. "I guess I don't know my roommates as well as I thought I did. Maybe he went home for the weekend? Pretty sure he grew up less than two hours away."

Dawn nods and the two walk another block in silence. With how thick the fog has grown, they can only see about twenty feet in front of them at any given time. In the distance, a police siren can be heard, however there's no way either of them can tell where it's coming from and where it's going.

"I'm surprised the police haven't instituted a curfew around campus," Dawn says, "what with everything going on. There hadn't been a death involving a student in six years, and now two so close together."

"They still might. There's definitely something strange going on." Will muses.

Dawn suddenly claps her hands together and turns. "I have an idea. We should just start the interview now. Since we're not going to have a lot of time during the actual movie."

"Okay." The word came out before Will had a chance to think about it. He knew that he would eventually have to talk about some things; that was the whole premise of this interview slash date. Still, he would much rather have had a few minutes to prepare for what she might ask. "You sure you don't want to do this when we get there? Won't you want to write everything down?"

She holds her phone out triumphantly. "I can just transcribe it later. So, what to do say we get started with something basic? Like where exactly is Silent Hill?"

That question wasn't as basic as Dawn probably thought it was. Will began to rub the back of his neck trying to think of the simplest answer without it being a complete lie.

"It's a small town in southwestern Maine, about two hours from the Canadian border. I would have thought an ace reporter would have known at least that much." Will says jokingly with a wink.

Dawn chuckles and shrugs her shoulders. "Hey, there's not a lot of information online. Most of it seems like rumors and tall tales. I did see Maine, but I also saw West Virginia and Pennsylvania have towns named Silent Hill also. It's tough to tell which story belongs where. The town you were from, was it a very religious place?"

"You want to know if I was raised in the religious cult that the town is infamous for? Is that what you mean?" Will asks, but he gives her a slight smirk to let her know that it's okay.

Dawn smiles sheepishly and shrugs her shoulder.

"It's okay," Will reassures her and takes a breath, "yes, my family was involved in what has come to be known as the Order of Silent Hill. But it's not nearly as nefarious as the rumors would have you believe. It was more like a commune than anything else. Not too far off from the Amish, but without being luddites. We had phones in our houses and cars. No television, no computers, nor mobile phones. We were just a community of people who believed what we believed and lived our lives accordingly."

He looks over to see Dawn listening intently. Anticipating the next question, he continued to speak without having to be asked.

"There were, however, some people who were considered to be extremists. They had archaic beliefs like animal sacrifice, arranged marriages, often between cousins. There were rumors that one couple killed the first born because it was a girl. It was said to have been a miscarriage, but enough people believed it. Another couple adopted a child that was rumored to have been taken from their parents in Boston. That lead to an entire legend about the town that abducts children and raises them in their cult. Home sweet home."

"That's, a lot to take in," Dawn began, but quickly went back into reporter mode, "so you grew up with no TV or a computer?! What did you do all day?"

"Played outside," Will answers after a laugh, "read books, spent time with my family. Hunted, which I never really liked, but my father insisted."

"And what are your parents like?" Dawn asks.

They stop for a moment at a curb, making sure to take an extra few seconds to look before crossing. With no headlights coming from either direction, they quickly moved across as they probably wouldn't have even seen a car if it hit them. It gave Will some time to decide how he wanted to answer her question.

"My mom's a worrier. She was raised in Silent Hill, and their traditions were much more rigid when she was a kid. She understood my need to get out and see the world, so to say." Will explains with a wry smile, then clears his throat and lets out a light sigh. "My dad, however," Will pauses another moment, "…well, remember those extremists I mentioned? I haven't seen him in seven or eight years."

Dawn presses a button on her phone and puts it away. "I'm not going to include that in the interview."

They were quiet the last few blocks on the way to the movie theater. The bright purple neon lights cast an eerie glow through the fog, which began to dissipate the closer they got to the building. There were about twenty people waiting in ticket lines and through the glass doors, another fifty or so milling about in the lobby. This must have been what everyone decided to do tonight, Will thought to himself. It made sense that with everything going on, people would want to go where there was a mass of other people.

Dawn and Will made small talk while they waited their turn to get tickets. She was from Phoenix originally and moved to a town outside of Seattle when she was a teenager and actually liked the change in weather. Other than that, she was a big movie fan, and rattled of a list that Will had never seen, but in turn he surprised her by listing all the music that he listened to.

"So wait," Dawn starts as they walk through the front doors and hand their tickets to the usher, "if you spent all that time closed off to the internet and pop culture, how do you know so many bands?"

"Music grabbed me more than anything else I guess," Will responds, "just all the different types that are out there. And when I mean all the different types, I mostly mean all the different types of rock. You should see my album collection someday."

He felt a pang in his stomach after the words came out. Dawn now had an invitation to come see his album collection, which was in his room. _"What am I doing?"_ Will thought to himself. He hadn't known this girl for more than a week, and altogether he had about twenty minutes of contact with her. Not even the girls that he had slept with at Clearview were invited to his room. He'd go back to their place or use Rory's bedroom without his knowledge. Dawn said something about owning albums being retro, but Will was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to catch the full sentence.

"It's all about the sound quality," Will comments, holding the door open to their theater for her, "Albums sound much better than CD's."

"You can play music on here nowadays, you know." Dawn remarks while playfully waving her phone in front of his face with a grin.

She turns her phone off as they make their way to their seats. Will follows Dawn, who picks an aisle three rows from the back and goes to the center. The theater is at about half capacity already. Will goes to sit down but gets surprised by Dawn turning around and almost bumping into him. She smiles again, and he can feel her breath against his face, noting that it smells of spearmint.

"Heh, sorry," Dawn says as her cheeks grow a slight bit rosy, "umm, I'm gonna go get some refreshments. You've had popcorn before, right?"

"Popped…corn?" Will asks as he cants his head to the left.

Dawn chuckles and slaps her hand against his chest. "Right, stupid question. What do you want to drink?"

"Cherry coke." Will replies as Dawn moves past him and weaves her way through the growing line of people entering the theater. Will sits down and takes a breath. He didn't know why this girl was getting to him and didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. Distractions at a time like this could be costly, even though going to the movies was a distraction in itself. He tried to push everything that had been going on out of his head, just for a few hours. Although he was still concerned about Teddy's whereabouts.

Will closes his eyes and takes a few more controlled breaths. He felt himself slowly slipping into a semblance of peacefulness and serenity. The noise from the crowd of people around him was even fading away to the point that he could no longer hear anything. For the next two hours, he had something he could focus on, and would try and be open to the possibilities for what would happen after the film. Would she want to go right home, or take him up on that invitation he inadvertently spat out?

He opened his eyes and almost jumped out of his seat. Everybody in the theater was gone. Not only the people, but anything that would have resembled the theater itself. There was no big projector screen at the far end, nor velvet curtains that revealed it when it was time for the film to start. Instead the wall was bare and looked like a gigantic slab of metal that seemed to be slowly rusting before Will's eyes. All the other rows of seats were gone, and he could see that the floor appeared to be of the same material, except grated every few feet.

"It can't be…" Will said to himself.

Looking up he could see nothing, just a darkness so black that he felt he might get sucked into it if he kept staring. He had heard stories from back home about another world that existed, somewhere between reality and dreams. There were incidents where people from the Order had been able to awaken something old; something that served the Gods that they worshipped. All the stories he heard ended violently, and every one of them had left a black mark on the legacy of his hometown. Will thought that one of the reasons he was here at Clearview was to provide an alternative from having to resort to fear and threats of damnation. That was the old way, wasn't it?

For as shocking as the world had turned upon opening his eyes after just a few seconds, it was the sounds that soon followed that got Will to finally get up to his feet. There was a steady banging at the door to the theater. It grew louder and louder, more frantic and forceful. Against all better judgment and every bit of good sense, Will started towards the door as the banging grew louder and louder, now causing mild vibrations that were visible to Will. He got about ten feet from the door and stopped when he heard a shrill scream that caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end. There was one more bang against the door, so heavy he thought that it might cave in. What followed was a steady stream of liquid that flowed through the gap between the door and the floor. A lantern bolted to the wall next to the door shone down on the small, growing river of red that had just touched Will's shoe. He didn't have to touch it to know that it was blood.


	12. 12

"THROUGH ME ONE GOES INTO THE TOWN OF WOE

THROUGH ME ONE GOES INTO ETERNAL PAIN

THROUGH ME AMONG THE PEOPLE THAT ARE LOST"

~ Dante Aligheri, _Inferno_

 **12!**

The blood was still crawling towards him and pooling outward on the rusted, metal floor in front of the door. It snaked around rivets to reach his shoes, but William kept backing up. He couldn't tell if the iron that he was smelling was coming from the floor or the blood; possibly both, mixing together to form a sickening metallic scent that almost caused Will to retch. It was this that snapped Will out of a temporary fugue state to realize that this was all very real.

It still didn't make any sense. Will backed up from the encroaching blood and took a quick look around the room, searching for something that would look familiar. In the stories that he was told about this Other World, most of them ended in death, or at the very least, disfigurement. However, he remembered hearing about symbols or items that could be found that would act as keys to escape from this nightmarish place. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If he moved about in a panic, he felt that he wouldn't get anywhere. He needed to take back the control that he prided himself in always having. Opening his eyes again, the world was still the same, but he was expecting it to be.

Will moved closer to the wall, reaching out and feeling the cold metal on his fingertips. He felt great importance in getting all five of his senses acclimated to this infernal place. Taking a glance down at the ground, the blood had slowed its flow and started to gather in the area he'd previously stood. Will moved along the wall away from the door, closer to where the movie screen had been previously. The further he got from the door, the more rust and discoloration adorned the wall. He stopped his stride when he felt something come off the wall on his hand. Raising it up, he saw a red liquid run down his fingers into the palm of his hand. He didn't feel himself get cut, and a look towards the wall told him that the wall itself was starting to bleed. He shook out his hand to try and get the blood off him as he stepped away.

 _Clink._

The sound was faint, but it was enough to catch Will's attention. It was coming from where the emergency exit used to be in the room.

 _Clink…clink…_

He moved closer to the sound, seeing that it was coming from one of the lights that were fixed and encased on the wall. It was closer to the size of a lantern and reminded him of the lights he saw in pictures of mines. The light had a singular crack that was branching off into smaller cracks, which were spreading across the glass until it formed some kind of sinister spiderweb in design. Suddenly, the spreading stopped, and it was silent again.

Will took another breath and turned his attention from the light. The moment he did, the bulb shattered, and glass exploded outward, sending Will sprawling and landing on all fours while shielding the back of his head. As the light source extinguished, Will began to hear more glass shattering, and he finally looked up to see that every lantern in the room was exploding one at a time. Each time it did, the room got darker and darker still, until every single light had exploded and plunged most of the room into a suffocating darkness. The only illumination was coming from the floor in the corner closest to him.

Still on his knees, Will looked at the corner. The light source was very faint and appeared to be lower than the floor level. He tried to get up, but noticed that his knees were very shaky, which slowed his progress.

"C'mon Will, get it together." He softly whispered to himself.

His voice carried a confidence that was not quite in his heart, but he willed himself to his feet, placing his hands on his knees to try and steady them. Slowly, he made his way to the source and discovered that it was coming from just slightly below the floor level, underneath a small grate that protruded slightly from the ground. It was a small flashlight that faced the wall, in the shape of a P. Of course, there was nothing to pry the grate up with, so the light was just taunting him.

With complete darkness surrounding him, Will kicked at the grate out of frustration, and was surprised that it came off rather easily. It clanged against the metal floor and scuttled away into the dark. All things considered, Will was very suspicious that the grate was loose, but light had been taken away from him. He reached down and grabbed the flashlight, tucking it into the breast pocket of his collared shirt. It gave him enough illumination to see about ten to fifteen feet in whichever direction he was looking. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Will took another quick look around to make sure there wasn't anything lurking in the dark nearby, but everything was the same as before the lights went out. He cautiously circumvented the blood and approached the front door, but there was no avoiding it if he wanted to get the door open. It was just blood, he said to himself as he took one step and then another, firmly standing in the puddle and pushing against the door handle. The handle didn't move, so he pushed against the door itself. It budged the slightest, so he put more weight against it. The door gave way even more this time. He exhaled and lowered his shoulders, throwing himself against the door.

It flew open and Will stumbled out into the hallway of the theater. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet, but he was grimacing at the pain in his shoulder. He immediately tried to push that pain out of his mind and be wary of his surroundings, but it was nagging and most likely would for some time. While the structure of the theater's interior didn't seem to change too much, the hallway itself was similar to the room he just left. The floor was metallic, although it had remnants of maroon carpet strewn about and stuck in portions. No matter how slowly or quietly he tried to move around, every step he took bounced an echo between the walls of the narrow hallway. The original wallpaper was shredded and exposed the same kind of walls, except for a spot that was a light red, almost pinkish hue, that looked soft and appeared to be almost pulsing.

Will turned from right to left and back again slowly, so that his flashlight created a sweeping motion around the area. To the right was a pile of debris that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and that happened to be where the lobby was. Across from him was the door to another theater room, and to his left, the hallway lead to more rooms. Whether the back door was still intact, he would have to find out the hard way.

Before he headed down the hallway though, he checked the pile of debris to see if it could have been moved like the door and the grating. Once he got close enough, he could see it was gigantic concrete slabs stacked on top of one another with pieces of rebar sticking out. It gave the appearance of a deadly version of that game that he had played last year where you had to take out small wooden blocks and stack them at the top. Better to check the other end before messing with this, he thought to himself.

He started back towards the hallway with the sound of his footsteps echoing to give warning to whatever he may find. The echoes were starting to get louder though, and one in particular caused him to stop his stride. Will listened closely and his suspicions were confirmed. His footsteps weren't the only things echoing through this place. And the echoes were starting to get closer, in timing and proximity to his location.

Will moved as silently as he could to the archway of the theater door. He concealed the light against the wall and peered around the corner. No longer were echoes heard, rather than actual footsteps, and they belonged to more than one set. He could also see that another light was coming into view, getting brighter and brighter and causing him to slip completely behind the archway. He patted himself down for something to defend himself with and found nothing. Flicking off his flashlight, he turned it around so that its end stuck out, preparing to club whomever was closing in on him. It was only when the section of hallway he was in grew bright that he prepared to jump out.

"Who's there? We know someone's there!"

A female voice tried to convey confidence, but with a hint of fear. Will thought about his options. He could go back inside the theater; however, he would be trapped if he did. By the footsteps, he guessed that there were three or four people out there.

"You better come out. We have a gun."

Another voice threatened him, though the threat put his mind at ease. He knew who that voice belonged to.

"Teddy?" Will questioned and stepped out of the archway.

He turned the flashlight back on and raised it to see his roommate standing there sporting a bewildered expression. A thirtysomething-year-old woman stood to his left holding a flashlight while a guy dressed as a movie theater usher stood to the right. The guy looked young enough that he was probably still in high school.

"Will?" Teddy asked in return, cracking a confused smile. "What the hell are you doing here? How long have you been here, where even is here?"

"I don't know," Will replied while looking between the three of them, "I haven't been here too long, probably less than twenty minutes. Dude, you never came home last night. Have you been here since then?"

"Last night? What are you talking about, I just went on a date, and…and…and I met this girl at the movies just like two or three hours ago I think," Teddy began to stammer and ramble, "the theater went dark, like all the lights went out and then when they came back on I was in this place. I just found these two like a half an hour ago."

"The same thing happened to me," the woman spoke up, blinking rapidly and clasping her right hand over her left to stop it from shaking, "everyone had vanished, even my daughter. Oh God, if she's around here somewhere I have to find her!"

Will swallowed hard. If Teddy only thinks he's been here a couple of hours at the most, then how long had he really been here? How come nobody noticed Teddy missing yesterday? Did his date get transported here too? Did they all just vanished from their seats and nobody bothered to notice?

Another thing that caught Will's attention was the tremor in the woman's hand. Coupled with rapid blinking, it could have simply meant that she was scared for herself and daughter's lives, or she was about to have a nervous breakdown. It could have also meant that she was on Pure. He flashed a light at the movie theater usher, who hadn't said anything. The usher was fixated on the pulsating wall just passed Will, who snapped his fingers in the kid's face. When the usher didn't respond, Will did it again and finally clapped his hands together.

"Huh!?" The kid let out a startled yelp.

"You on Pure?" Will asked the kid, which drew a worried look from the woman.

"What?" The kid responded while backing up a step. "No! I mean, yeah, but, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?" The woman asked before motioning the flashlight towards Will's shoes. "Oh my God is that blood? Whose blood is that?!"

"Calm down," Will said softly, raising his hands up in a non-threatening manner, "I was in that room, and blood just started seeping underneath the door. There's nobody in there, or around here."

"Then where did the blood come from?" Teddy asked.

Everyone paused for a moment and looked around. Behind them, Will saw some blood streaks on the wall going in the direction that they came from. Before he could say anything, he saw the usher slowly moving towards the pulsating wall. Teddy and the woman don't notice, but the kid looks almost transfixed by the mass. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the wall was thicker than it was before.

"Hey, I don't know if you want to be touching that."

The usher either didn't hear Will or chose to ignore him. The woman looked at the wall with some disgust, but Teddy didn't even acknowledge what the usher was walking towards. He kept narrow eyes on Will.

"Why'd you ask about Pure?" asked Teddy. "Why aren't you as freaked out as the rest of us right now?"  
"What?" Will tried to ask as incredulously as he could. "Not freaked out? You should have seen me in that room, I just…" he paused for a moment to gather himself, "…I'm trying my best to stay calm. Calm leads to rational, and there must be a rational explanation to all this."  
"That doesn't explain why you mentioned Pure." Teddy noted.

Before the line of questioning expanded, their attention was caught by a loud shriek. The woman cried out and pointed at the wall, where the usher's hand was caught in the mass. He frantically tried to pull it out by placing his other hand on his wrist and yanking backwards, but he wasn't getting anywhere. Suddenly, a glob of the pinkish matter seemed to reach out to ensnare his other hand and pull it in. It was slowly sucking him in so that the matter was now up to his forearms.

"Help! Help me!" the kid screamed.

Teddy and Will rushed over to the kid, each grabbing him around one of his shoulders and trying to pull him out. The woman also scrambled over and tried pulling at his forearms. They couldn't move him and the substance lashed out at the woman, causing her to let go and back away to the far wall.

"Please help me!"

"What the hell is this shit?!" Teddy exclaimed while he and Will tried desperately to pull the kid away. The wall had swallowed the kid up to his forearms now, and tears started to well up in his eyes as he was slowly being sucked in. No matter how hard the two of them pulled, they couldn't get him free. Will began to look around and remembered the rebar sticking out from the debris that led to the lobby.

"You got him for a minute?"

"What?!" Teddy asked while shaking his head. "No! Not really!"

Will didn't reply. Instead he darted towards the debris pile. After a quick scan, he pulled at the piece that he deemed to be the loosest and the least likely to cause a concrete avalanche. He gave it a slight tug, and when he saw that it would come out easily, he yanked it free and hustled back over to the wall. The kid was now up to his elbows in the stuff.

Without warning, Will swung hard near the top of the wall, as to avoid the usher's actual arms. His action caused Teddy to flinch and temporarily let go. The rebar didn't break apart the wall, but rather the blob welcomed and grabbed the metal rod. Will yanked on the rod to try and pull it back out, harder and harder until he lost his grip and stumbled backwards into Teddy who was just getting up. As the two of them got up, the rod was sucked into the wall, and even more shocking was the shape that the mass was taking. It seemed to reach out with arms of its own now towards the kid, and before he could yell out again, it grabbed him on both sides of his head and pulled it in.

"Holy shit!" cried Teddy, as both he and Will rushed back to the kid, who could only frantically shrug his shoulders and scrape his feet against the ground. Will joined Teddy in pulling at the waist momentarily but stopped when he saw the mass begin to undergo a transformation.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Teddy yelled up towards Will, still trying to free the kid, "C'mon, help me pull!"

"Look." Will said while motioning to the wall.

Teddy snapped his attention to it, and like Will, stopped tugging at the kid when he saw that the wall was slowly changing to a darker color of red. It continuously grew darker until it was a shade of brown, but what's more, the substance no longer appeared to be spongy. The kid's thrashing grew weaker and weaker, and intervals farther apart as the wall appeared to harden before their very eyes. After a short time, the kid stopped moving altogether. It was as if the wall closed around his arms and his neck. There were no marks or indication of a struggle, or that they were forcible inserted. Will stepped forward to observe it, and with a moment of trepidation, used the back of his hand to feel how it had grown smooth and solid.

"Oh my God." Teddy mumbled to himself, his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he examined the wall with Will. "Oh my God! I mean, what the fuck?! What the fuck just happened?! Is he dead?"

Will looked back towards the body half-stuck in the wall. It wasn't moving. He didn't want to touch it, nor did he have to. The kid hung there, back on his heels. Will just nodded his head in response, hearing the woman let out a few frightened whimpers in the background.

"I have to tell you," Teddy started, "that your whole calm demeanor throughout this whole thing, is really getting on my fucking nerves!"

Before Will could respond, a loud boom caught their attention. The woman pushed herself up along the wall to get back to her feet, eyes fixed on the pile of rubble. She pointed towards the pile, her hand shaking as small tremors took over her body. Will moved over to her and placed a hand on top of hers to try and get her to calm down. He heard the sound again and looked towards the rubble to see small pieces of concrete crumbling onto the floor. The three of them stood frozen in place, staring…waiting. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood and waited, but all was silent.

"Okay," Will said, looking back and forth between the two others, "we need to figure out…"

An explosion of cement and metal sent the three of them scrambling backwards. Chunks of the rubble scattered everywhere, and a piece of rebar soared by just over Teddy's head. For the amount of earth and mass that was piled up, something had easily disbursed it amongst the room. Will picked himself up faster than the other two, getting ready for some kind of monster to appear and attack them. All that was there was pure darkness, which unsettled Will even more.

"We should be going back the other way." Will stated while tugging at the two of them.

"We just came from that way, there's nothing but theaters and a maintenance closet." The woman replied. "That might be the way out!"

"It's not." Will retorted and started walking past them.

"How the hell do you know?!" Teddy demanded.

"Because her flashlight isn't penetrating that area."

Both Teddy and the woman turned back to the area. She scanned her flashlight over the area but couldn't make anything out. She gulped and took an uneasy step forward, followed by another, but no matter how close she got, her light was snuffed out by impenetrable darkness. She decided to back up by Teddy again, and as she did, something fell from the ceiling. They looked up and shone a light but were interrupted by a shrill scream coming from the dark. Whatever it was screamed again and sent their hairs on end. The floor ten feet in front of them suddenly split wide open with a horrific crack.

"Yeah I think back that way is the best idea right now. Run!"

Teddy sent out a warning scream as more of the floor started to split open, and the three of them starting sprinting down the hallway. The woman began to veer off to the room Will found himself in to start, so he grabbed her by the elbow and lead her away. They could hear the same sounds of the floor splitting but didn't dare to look back. Other theater's double doors passed by in a blur, until Will spied a single door off to the right. He began to make a faster break towards that one.

"That door's locked!" screamed the woman who trailed just behind.

Will paid no attention and picked up some more speed. Just like when he broke through the initial doors, he lowered that same shoulder, not breaking stride as he charged and smashed through the door, which swung open freely and sent him spilling onto the ground. The other two followed him through, and Teddy grabbed the door to slam it behind them, pressing back against it to block passage for whatever they were running from. Teddy panted out of breath, although he suddenly stopped, and his eyes went wide when he saw where they were.

"What…the…" Teddy began without finishing the thought.

Will got up slowly, holding his now definitely injured shoulder and looked around. They were outside, or at least it seemed like they were. In front of them was a wired fence about fifteen feet tall with sharp ends that looked like miniature scythes along the top. From where they stood, they could see the corners of the theater, and that the fence appeared to wrap all the way around it. Outside the wall was a darkness that rivaled the one they had seen inside, except for dim red lights off in the distance. They did little to illuminate the outside; instead it just cast an eerie glow. One of the lights had gone out, either by itself or by some other unseen force.

Looking around the building, something caught Will's eye farther down on the gray exterior wall. He walked along the wall to investigate.

"Hey, there's a space in the top!"

He heard the woman exclaim and Teddy said something that Will couldn't make it out. He was getting a feeling of déjà vu, like he had walked along this wall before, but never remembered going behind the movie theater for anything. Suddenly, it hit him. The dream the other night, where he was on the deserted campus. The school's theater hadn't looked quite right. It was this wall that he had seen, and the same graffiti was present now.

" _Speak. I am the Crimson One."_

The spray paint dripped from the letters and Will felt compelled to reach out and feel. It was thicker than spray paint should have been. A metallic sound caught his attention, and Will turned to see that the woman was climbing the fence to try and get out through the space at the top. She grabbed the top of the fence, carefully pulling up and sliding herself between the sharp protrusions.

"C'mon you two, we need to get the hell away from here!" the woman cried out while straddling the top of the fence.

With their attention diverted to each other, none of them saw what was coming. None of them were expecting what happened next. The scream was blood-curdling.


End file.
